


Slaying Gotham

by 88dragons



Series: Slayer in Gotham [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: And other places, Bats in the Belfry, Blatant Trashing of the City of Paris, Dark Knight, Definately an AU, F/M, Gotham City - Freeform, Harley Quinn - Freeform, I apologize to anyone who likes Paris, Prophecys, Some Gypsy Magic, The Joker - Freeform, The Tumbler, Undead, Vampires, angsty, the batcave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88dragons/pseuds/88dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy Summers receives a prophecy that leads her to Gotham City.</p><p>I guess I am the only one writing this fandom on this site.  In the words of my ex-hippy mama's words - Groovy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on fanfiction.net and Twisting the Hellmouth beginning late last year. I have this story plus the second one finished and am well into the third and final story in the series. I am posting it here more slowly so I can edit and maybe add to it as I go along.
> 
> I own nothing from either franchise and am making no money.

Buffy was sure this was one of the worst nights she had ever had as a Slayer. Scratch that! It was one of the worst nights of her entire life, before and after Slayerdom.

It had started out as any other. There had been reports of vampires nesting in the catacombs underneath Paris even before she had left Rome two months ago. As soon as everything in the other city had been taken care of, she had raced off to the famous French city. Famous for love and lovers. So far, she was not impressed. In any way, shape, or form.

The catacombs had proven to be much more difficult that she had first believed they would be. Miles and miles of winding, twisting, and altogether confusing tunnels, a vast network of turns and dead ends and secret passages, all crumbling and dirt strewn, not to mention the skulls and various other bones that were not only littering the ground, but were, in some cases, actually part of the construction of the walls of the place, which led to nothing short of a frustrated, ready to scream Slayer who was just about to give up her two month quest to destroy this particular nest.

Paris had a lot to thank her for. Ungrateful, snail eating. . . .

She knew she had been in this blasted tunnel before. Or maybe she was just confusing it with another identical tunnel, but she was pretty sure she had seen that femur sticking out of that crumbling mortar in that exact same spot earlier. Or had it been yesterday? Or last week? It was all so damn confusing and running together in her mind.

She checked her phone again just for the heck of it, and was not surprised to see that there was no signal down here. No way to call for help if she got lost. No one to hear her scream in her irritation. 

Deciding she had already had enough for the night, even though it was early for her, she began trying to find her way back to the surface by back tracking. It did not take her long to realize she was lost, or at least not headed back in the general direction she had came from when entering. Just wanting to get out, not caring where, she began picking random tunnels, her Slayer senses telling that she was not going deeper in and that she actually was making progress in getting out, but not giving her much more than that. 

She stopped in the center of a tunnel and looked up through the moonlight that was shimmering down through a grill above her head. She could make the jump easily, move the grate with one hand, and be out of here in a few seconds. But something caused her to pause. Sighing, hating her awesome senses, she left the area of moonlight and ventured farther down the tunnel. A few feet later, she could hear several voices, and her senses were all tingly. Yep, there were more vamps down here. And just like them to show up not only where she planned to exit stage right, but just as she was about to give up for the night. Figures!

Peering around the bend, she could see there were only three of them. Not a big problem, unless there were more of them lurking around that she could not see, and they came charging in at the first sounds of battle. Shrugging, taking the stake out of her back pocket, she jumped around the corner and staked the first vamp before the other two could even register what was happening. 

One of them got over being startled very quickly and lunged at her. She was glad to note that the other just stood there looking around in confusion which she took to mean that there were not any other vamps in the vicinity for him to call for aid. 

The second vamp was on her quickly, but not quickly enough. He exposed his fangs at her, raising his claw like hands in a menacing way. Stupid move. She staked him before he could do anything more. 

The third vamp came charging through the dust of his comrade. While he had been a little slow on the uptake, he proved to be the most difficult one to take out. He dodged her initial attack, and came back with one of his own: punching her in the ribs on her left side. She rolled with it, coming up with her back against the far wall, stake in hand and at the ready. The vampire charged again, dodging her once again, but this time her attack was a fake, and she shifted her swing, taking the punch in the ribs again, bringing the stake up and through the vamps chest. 

He dusted, growling angrily at her. She shrugged, rubbing her sore ribs, and made her way back to the shaft of moonlight. A jump and a few seconds later, she was on the street, going back to her hotel. It was still rather early, especially given Slayer hours, but her senses were calm, and there wasn’t that much else to do in the city, especially if you were alone, so she decided a little extra rest could not hurt her one bit.

She had turned down several streets, only paying attention to the cobblestones in front of her, letting her senses alert her to any danger, when suddenly something grabbed her arm. Her eyes swung up and around, landing on the near skeletal hand that had her arm in a vice grip. Her first instinct was to attack, but she knew that this was not some sort of demon or undead creature out to get her, so she froze, and looked into the eyes of the person holding on to her.

It was an old woman. Her back was bent some badly that it appeared she was doubled over. Her iron gray hair was wrapped up in a tight bun, and she had so many wrinkles she would give one of those wrinkled dogs a run for their money. Her eyes were a smoky white color, telling Buffy she was blind.

“You are the Slayer,” the woman stated in a gravelly voice. Buffy looked around in alarm, but saw no one else on the street with them. 

“How do you know that?” She asked in a whisper. She couldn’t help it.

“Take heed, child,” the woman began, ignoring her question. “You must leave here. You must travel to Gotham City. There the beasts are gathering. You must stop them before it is too late.” She gripped Buffy’s arm even tighter and pulled her closer. “Beware! Beware the Insurrection! You can stop it, but not alone. Only in his shadow can you do this.”

The woman released her and began hobbling down the road, humming to herself. Buffy stood rooted to the spot, watching her, only able to make herself speak just before the old woman rounded the corner. 

“Wait! Whose shadow?”

“The Bat, child. Look for the Bat.” The old woman waved her hand as she went around the corner.

When Buffy dashed down the street and around the corner only seconds later, there was no sign of the old woman.

“I really should be used to this sort of thing,” she stated to herself. She pulled her cell phone from her front jeans pocket, and soon there was ringing on the other end. When the voice of her friend greeted her, she returned it whole heartedly. “So, Will, I need a favor: What can you tell me about Batman?”


	2. Gotham City

Turned out, Willow couldn’t find out a lot about the man known as Batman, except what she could find in the Gotham City newspapers. And she doubted that even half of that was true. Buffy reviewed all of this on the plane back to the states. She not only read the articles about Batman, but she checked to make sure there weren’t any reports of strange going’s on, or at least not more than usual for the city. From what she could tell, there were a lot of freaks there. 

What bothered her the most, however, was the attitude of the city towards the Batman. He risked his life bringing bad guys to justice, going and doing what the police could or would not, and all the people did was blame him for crime being so high, for people getting hurt, and officers of the law getting killed. According to one column, Batman was the reason all the criminals were flooding into Gotham City in the first place. That his standing up to the bad element was drawing them to the city. That was so preposterous; Buffy had to wonder why he even bothered to keep doing what he was doing. The city he risked his life for was so appreciative (NOT!). She knew what that felt like, to go out and try to make the world a safer place. She had been chosen, while he had chosen to do this on his own. If Buffy had had her wish, she would have not been a Slayer. She had to respect his determination for sticking with it.

She decided to pack it in and rest for the remainder of the flight. She had already come up with a foolproof plan: as soon as the plane landed in Gotham she would find a hotel, sit it out until nightfall, and then hang around on the roof tops until the Bat showed up, explain the situation, and offer her services. . . Slayer services. Easy as pie. Really, how hard could it to be to convince a man who dressed up like a giant flying rodent that she was a girl chosen to fight evil in the form of vampires and demons, and that they were invading his city. Oh, and that an old woman in Paris had told her that there was some kind of Insurrection about to happen in Gotham and that she had to hang around in his shadow to stop it from happening. 

No problem at all. Why would he not believe her? 

Snickering sarcastically to herself, and avoiding the strange looks she was getting from the people seated around her, Buffy sighed, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

 



 

In her dream, she had the feeling she was being watched. Not by a malicious presence, but one that dwelled in the shadows around her. For some reason, she felt safe knowing that the shadows were not empty or full of creatures that wanted to kill her. When she called out to whoever it was, and she was sure it was a person, they did not answer. When she looked closer at the shadows, she could see someone there, but when she tried to get closer, they moved. They moved very quickly, much too quickly for a human, but yet she knew this person was fully human. Once she got a glimpse of the end of a cape, and then . . . . 

She woke with a start as the man next to her, elbowed her roughly in the side. “OH!” She cried, stopping herself at the last minute from hitting back. The man smiled sheepishly at her, apologized, and just then the flight attendant announced that they would be landing at Gotham International Airport in twenty minutes. Buffy fastened her seat belt, again resisting the urge to elbow the man back, and sat back to enjoy the last of her flight. The best part in her opinion – the landing part – aside from the actual getting off the plane after landing part.

As she waited for her luggage to come around on the carousel, Buffy regretted that all her good weapons, her 16th Century Byzantine Axe for one, would not make it through customs, or the metal detector, and had to be shipped stuffed in a huge crate with other materials so they would not be confiscated. She felt naked without weapons. At least she had Mr. Pointy in her bag. He was made of wood. Easy to get by.

Once her two bags came around, she scooped them up, and headed out of the airport to find a taxi. Getting one had been no problem at all, and as she sat in the back seat of what was without a doubt the cleanest taxi she had ever been in, she checked her messages, seeing if Willow had managed to find anything on the “Insurrection.” She had not. Even Giles had been unable to find anything from jolly ol’ England, but Will promised that both would keep looking. 

“Good luck with the Batman,” Willow had told her in an email with nothing else in it. Buffy huffed, wishing that all she needed was a little luck. She predicted a whole lot of luck teamed up with the guy being just a little shy of sane and just a smidgen of gullible.

She wasn’t expecting too much from either one of those categories. 

She had asked the cabbie to take her to the nearest hotel, a nice one, and he obliged. The trip from the airport into what was, according to the Google map on her cell phone, Uptown, just on the east side of the North City Park. Driving around Uptown, she had been able to see the huge Gotham Stadium briefly, but now all she could see were high rise buildings of glass. 

The hotel he took her to was way out of her price range and she knew it. But she really didn’t have much choice. Maybe she would be able to swing it for one night, just long enough for her to get her bearings, and then she would find something cheaper, most likely in the bad part of town. It wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself.

She had been right about the price range being way beyond her. One night was nearly double what she had paid in Paris. She figured if she went without eating, left room service alone, and the little bottles in the fridge very alone, why she would be able to stay in Gotham after tonight, one maybe two more nights, and then she would either have to walk home or sleep in a cardboard box in the park. Both options held no appeal whatsoever. 

She wondered where the Batman lived and what he did during the day. She stifled a giggle at the sleeping upside down in a cave picture that flashed through her mind.

Once up to her room, a very posh room (so much so in fact, that she vowed to sleep on the floor, and only use the restroom if she absolutely had to), Buffy didn’t even bother to unpack. The sun was slowly dipping down below the horizon, so tossing her coat into a corner, she stuffed Mr. Pointy in the back waistband of her jeans, easily covered by her shirt, made sure her room key was in her pocket, and dashed back out the door again, locking it securely behind her. 

She knew she had to get up high and quickly. After reading the past issues of the Gotham Herald, she knew that at one time the now Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Departments had had a signal light that he could use to let the Batman know he was needed. It had been destroyed last year after the Batman had been accused of killing several people. Buffy had a hard time believing that the man had actually killed someone, at least someone innocent, but accidents could happen. 

Now it was just a shot in the dark if anyone happened to see the masked vigilante. He was getting really good at hiding from the public while going about his self appointed job as protector of the city. It seemed to Buffy that he only showed himself in certain places and just long enough to let people know he was still there, and possibly to let the police know they were not going to be able to catch him.

One tall building was as good as another she supposed, so she slipped into the nearest one, caught the elevator to the top most floors, and found the woman’s bathroom. The floor she was on housed some kind of firm, she really didn’t stop to find out what kind, and by the looks of things they had worked a few hours late and were just now getting ready to call it a day. Lucky for her she had picked the right building. She slipped inside the bathroom unnoticed, opened the window, and was out on the ledge in mere moments. From there it was just a careful little stroll around the building while looking down at the tiny cars and people eighty stories below her, and a short little climb up and to the roof. 

The city was huge. How did one man protect all of this all by himself? Buffy shook her head in disbelief as she turned in a slow circle. Why would one man try? Then she remembered something she had read one time, or that someone had told her long ago. It went: Evil only triumphs when good men stand by and do nothing. Or something along that line. Anyway, the point she had gotten from it was that evil can only win when those who are not evil let it. You have to fight the good fight and not let evil win. Maybe that was why he was out here – if he didn’t do something, anything, than the evil in the city would win. One man could change the world. Why not a city?


	3. The Museum

Buffy had stood watch on the roof of that building all night, and no sign of the Batman. She was starting to think that he was not interested.  
The good men are always the hardest ones to find.  
She knew that her plan was not working out the way she had hoped, but it wasn’t any different than the actual reality of her plan. What she had hoped had been a figment of her imagination, full of bunny rabbits and rainbows, where everything was easy and what she wanted just showed up in the palm of her hand like, was not happening here. The reality of it, as known by very few besides a Slayer, is not everything goes how you want it to no matter how delusional one may be. She knew she was going to have to try something else the next night.  
She managed to get back in the way she had gotten out and slip back into the elevator as everyone else was getting out. She went back to her expensive hotel room, picked up her stuff, and checked out. Deciding she would get to know the city better if she walked around (and because she didn’t have any money to splurge for a cab), she traversed the busy streets, taking in the sights, and making her way toward the not so nice part of Gotham.  
The railway was free, so she hopped on board it and it took her over the River Liberty and into the heart of Gotham, past several more tall buildings, including one named Wayne Tower, which actually seemed to be in the very center of the city. Or rather close to it. Boy, she thought to herself as she sat on one of the few occupied seats in the car she was in, this guy Wayne must really think a lot about himself if he has a building named after him.  
While looking up sites that she might like to visit if she found the time in the city, she found the Wayne Botanical Gardens as one of the listed sites to see. That was two. This Wayne guy was really popular.  
It became apparent to her that at some point she was going to have to find a job, some way to support herself while she was here. There weren’t many jobs open to a young woman who had barely made it through high school and had not finished college, even though she had spent some time as a councilor in Sunnydale. She needed something that would allow her to do her job as Slayer, but pay her money so she would not be a starving or a homeless Slayer.  
While riding the rail, skimming the Gotham City papers on her iphone, she came across a story that interested her greatly.  
Gotham City Museum was struck again last night. The assailants appeared to be after some ancient Syrian artifacts that date back to the 7th century. The museum curator, a Dr. Anthony Livingston, stated that he was unsure why the criminals are after these items.  
“They were used long ago in ancient rituals. Human sacrifices and the sort. It has also been found in few texts that the artifacts were used to summon demons from the underworld, if you can believe such nonsense.”  
Buffy sighed. Yep, she could believe such nonsense. Maybe this was why she had to come here, to Gotham, to stop whoever from getting these artifacts and summoning up so big bad from hell. She had to get into the museum.  
Getting off the newspaper’s site, she brought up another number and punched it. A few short rings later and there was an answer on the other end.  
“Giles, I need a favor.”  
  
“I could not believe the old boy calling me up out of the blue like that.” Dr. Livingstone shook his head. He was an older gentleman, at least seventy if Buffy had to guess, and he was in a wheelchair. The chair buzzed and hissed as if it were going to break down at any second, but the good doctor just rolled along without any worries at all.  
It just so happened that the museum needed someone to catalog items that were in storage in the basement of the old place, and to cross check and make sure that what was on display was what was supposed to be on display and displayed properly. And it just so happened that Giles knew Dr. Livingstone. What luck!  
“It was fortunate for me that I came to Gotham at the right time,” Buffy stated, glancing around as she followed beside the Doctor’s wheelchair. The place was practically deserted except for a school group and a couple she was sure was not here to expand their knowledge on the past.  
“Yes. It is,” the doctor stated excitedly. “I hope you don’t mind working at night.”  
“Oh, no.” Buffy had to hide a smile. “I have no problem working at night.”  
“It gets kind of spooky in here.”  
“That won’t bother me.”  
The doctor laughed and led Buffy down another wide hall, this one full of dinosaur bones and displays he had to wheel around, and did so with ease. Down a side hall, she noticed a heavy velvet curtain, and several signs of construction, including a sign that read “Pardon Our Mess.”  
“What is that?” She asked.  
“Oh! That.” Dr. Livingstone pulled to a stop and backed up a little, careful of her feet. “We are opening a new exhibit tomorrow night. Having a huge gala for it also. All funded by Mr. Wayne.”  
Wayne. There was that name again. The guy must be rich and a lover of his name in the papers and on buildings and . . . galas.  
“You will come, won’t you?” Dr. Livingstone asked, his wheelchair sounding as if it were a strain for it to get going again.  
Buffy began to turn him down, but something made her say instead: “Sure. I would love to.”  
  
Buffy really wished she hadn’t agreed to go to the gala, because she didn’t have a thing to wear. It was hard keeping nice clothes when one was a Slayer and blood, no matter what color, was hard to get out.  
Dr. Livingstone had stated the gala was not a formal one, more like formal casual. Buffy wondered exactly what that meant.  
“I supposed a nice dress, but not too glitzy,” Willow offered on the phone two hours before the gala was to begin. Buffy had already decided that she was going to take a change of clothes with her. She didn’t officially start until the next night, but Dr. Livingstone trusted Giles’ word enough that she already had a key and the security code for the door in the underground parking garage of the museum. She would go to the gala, get a good look around, and then change, and spend a couple of hours patrolling before going back and keeping an eye out for vamps. She was almost certain that they would not try and crash the gala.  
“I have a sort of nice dress.” Buffy held the article of clothing up in front of her, studying it closely. She hadn’t ever worn this dress patrolling, so it was not stained with demon blood. It was several shades of orange, none loud or neon, with white and black. It went down past her knee by an inch or so, and had spaghetti straps. She had a white sweater that went with it. One of those nice ones that looked like it had been knitted and a nice pair of shoes to match. “I don’t know, Will. I am afraid of looking frumpy. I don’t want to look frumpy.” She sounded whinny. She had good reason.  
“You won’t look frumpy,” Willow encouraged her. “You will look great. You always look great.”  
Buffy sighed. Her new hotel room was nowhere near as nice as the first one she had had, but at least she wasn’t afraid to lie down on the bed for fear she would damage something. And it was a third of the price, and came with sirens at night, and sometimes a few brawls on the street outside.  
“All the other girls will be dressed in fabulous dresses and have on a lot of jewelry.” She sighed again, dropping the dress onto the bed. “I will be the frumpy girl. I should have a pair of dorky glasses and carry a book bag and snort when I laugh.”  
Willow laughed. “Stop it! You will look great. I mean it. So stop fretting’ and get dressed. Go. Have a good time. Who knows, you just might meet someone.”  
“Yeah. Right.” She managed to laugh. They spoke for a few more moments and then hung up. Willow was a great friend, and an awesome witch, but sometimes she just didn’t get it.  
Once Buffy got dressed, however, and took a good look at herself in the mirror, she realized that the dress wasn’t that bad. She slipped on the shoes, nice and comfy with low one-inch heal, and pulled the sweater on. It was a short sweater, only going half way down her ribs. Checking her hair and makeup again, she grabbed her back, and swept out of the room.  
She had to walk several blocks to find a taxi. The neighborhood reminded her so much of others she had seen in movies or television shows. Those made up cities where the sidewalks were always wet for some reason or another, and it was always foggy, and the street lights had a nasty habit of only working when they wanted to. It wasn’t too bad of a neighborhood, but it was a lot farther away from the good neighborhood than she had hoped.  
It wasn’t like she was afraid of being mugged. She was more than a little sure that she could take care of anyone who happened to try and mug her. Once she was inside a taxi and on her way to the museum, she let her Slayer senses tune into her surroundings. There were demons and vamps here alright, but they seemed to be just on the edge of her senses. To her, it felt as if they were just hovering, waiting for the word to jump out and begin terrorizing people.  
She couldn’t wait.


	4. Handsome Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am real surprised I am getting hits on this story. There for a while, I didn't think I was gonna.

What had stumped the media and police about the break in at the museum was that no one had been caught on camera. Buffy laughed at this. Of course not. Vampires don’t show up on video or still pictures. She had to wonder why then they did not finish the job.  
She found out when she got a good look at the display. Not only were the artifacts that she was sure she had seen in one of Giles’ books there, but also several crosses and other holy items from ages past. If she had to guess, whoever had owned these items before had probably known what they were and had been used for and had them doused with holy water. So, the vamps would need someone human to get the artifacts, which meant that it would be someone who had to worry about being caught on the security cameras. That also meant there was a good chance that they might not wait and the gala was over.  
This also meant she might have to tough out the whole night until the last person left. Great.  
And the feeling that she had had in her hotel room, the one she felt she had not stressed enough to Willow, came back full force once she stepped into the museum. The frumpiness reared its ugly head, and she found herself wanting to hide in the corner, or better yet in an area that no one else was in, but she had to keep an eye on things, so that left her only one option: tough it out.  
At least everyone she met spoke to her and didn’t look down on her. That was nice. And when Dr. Livingstone approached her to introduce her to several members of the museum staff she had missed the day before, he told that she looked lovely. It was either just an old man’s way of being nice, or he had picked up on her uneasiness. Either way, it put her a little at ease and she mingled a little more.  
The reception, or whatever it was called, before the unveiling of the new exhibit was held on the second floor of the museum, and it was complete with a large balcony. A bar had been set up with three bartenders manning it, and a nice buffet area with items like caviar, shrimp, and some kind of pink stuff on a cracker Buffy could not identify were lain out upon it. She had taken a glass of wine from one of the men prowling the crowd with a tray of long stemmed glasses, but she had not taken a single sip as of yet. Slayer plus alcohol equaled bad.  
Buffy was minding her own business, smiling when she needed to, greeting her new co-workers as they approached her when she just happened to turn her attention to the bar and that was when all her troubles started. At least, some of her troubles started.  
Across the room, leaning casually against the bar stood a handsome, immaculately dressed young man in a charcoal grey Italian suit with a lavender shirt and dark purple silk tie. His shoes were black leather, also Italian, and shinned from a fresh coat of polish. She was impressed. His Armani suit alone she knew cost well over $5,000, a large sum for most people, but she could tell by his manicured hands and the diamond ring worn on his pinkie that money was not a problem. This man was the definition of ‘class’ in the dictionary.  
His smoldering dark eyes scanned the crowd, picking out no one in particular, simply moving from face to face as he sipped on a martini. His lips were a thin line, but as he placed the rim of the long stemmed martini glass to them, they seemed to swell like ripening fruit. It was impossible not to think about kissing those lips and she felt a blush rising from her neck to her cheeks when his dark eyes caught her staring at him. A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he lifted his glass in a casual toast before his gaze transferred to another. For a moment she thought he had dismissed her as he had all the others at the party, but she’d no more taken one step toward the balcony when she felt the man’s eyes on her back. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and instead gave an extra swing to her hips as she continued on out to the balcony. It was a deliberate ploy she often used to lure male predators into her web, usually because as a Slayer she had a bad vamp to disconnect to his life line, but in this case, she wanted the man to follow.  
He did.  
She knew he wasn’t a vamp. She had not sensed any of them here – yet – and she really wasn’t sure why she had done what she had done, luring him out onto the balcony, away from the crowd. She had just met him. Scratch that – she hadn’t met him yet. She had just ogled him from across the room. But she had lured him, and he had followed.  
What had she been thinking? Not even here a full three days and she was flirting with a guy she had no idea who he was.  
She stopped at the rail, and finally took a sip of her drink. For a moment, she thought of either jumping to the street below (it wasn’t that high. She would survive it no problem) or use her Slayer speed and get away before the man could see her. But, instead, she stood still, her face still feeling flushed, and her hand holding the champagne glass, it was actually trembling at little bit.  
Maybe he wouldn’t follow her. Maybe something else had gotten his attention before he could make it out here. Maybe. . . .  
“Nice night,” he said, a little too close to her ear. She could feel him standing right behind her. Feel him. The heat radiating off his body. The smell of his aftershave. It was intoxicating. It was mind blowing. It was unlike anything she had felt before.  
“Yes. Very nice.” She was amazed at how calm she sounded.  
“Much too nice to be stuck inside this stuffy old place.” He was next to her then, leaning down on the rail. His hands were empty, having left his cocktail somewhere between here and the bar. Buffy glanced at him, ever so briefly, out of the corner of her eye, afraid to look at him anymore than that. Damn, he was even more handsome up close, and he smelled absolutely wonderful.  
“Yeah, it is a little stuffy in there,” she answered. And out here, in the wide open, thanks to you, but in a good way. Oh my . . . What is happening to me?  
“I have been to a lot of parties like this one, and this is the first time I have ever seen you.” He was looking at her, watching her. She could feel it.  
“I just arrived three days ago.” Good. Stay calm.  
“From where?”  
“Oh, um, Paris. I was in Paris.” She felt no reason to lie to him. Or just not to tell him the whole truth.  
“Did you like it there?” He asked. So casual. She loved the sound of his voice.  
“No,” she said, laughing a little. “No, not really.”  
“Oh.” He laughed also, turning his attention to the city around them. “You don’t sound like an east coast kinda girl.”  
“I’m not. I’m from California.” She wondered how she could want a man to go away and stay at the same time. “I needed a change of scenery, and so I came here. I work here, at the museum, cataloging…stuff.”  
“Stuff, huh?” He chuckled. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss?” He stood up straight, turned to her, and held out his hand.  
She gathered her courage (Really?) and turned to face him. She had to fight herself to keep from falling, actually falling, into his eyes, and to retain some kind of normalcy.  
“Sofia.” She praised herself inwardly on remembering the name Giles had told her to go by. “Sofia Blake.”  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blake,” he said, taking her hand. His skin was nice and warm. A little rougher than she had anticipated for a rich guy, but not in a bad feeling sort of way. “I’m Bruce Wayne.”  
Wayne? Why did that name sound so familiar? Then it dawned on her.  
“Wayne! As in Wayne Tower? Wayne Botanical Gardens?”  
“Yeah, that’s me. Well, actually my father is the Wayne they are named after. I just inherited it all.” He smiled at her. The smile of a mischievous boy.  
“Oh! Well. . . .”  
“Master Wayne!” An older gentleman approached them. He had gray hair and what Buffy would call a regal face. Definitely British. She could spot them anywhere. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Madame.” He actually bowed to her. “Something has come up that requires your attention.” He said, turning his attention back to Mr. Wayne.  
“Ah! Well, I should go see to that,” he said nodding, which was returned by the older man. “Thank you, Alfred.” He turned back to Buffy. “I apologize, but I have to go. It has been a pleasure, Miss Blake.” He actually took her hand and kissed it. His lips were soft and warm. She felt her pulse quicken. Her knees shake. “Maybe we can get together some time and I can show you around.”  
“I would like that.” Had she just said that?  
“Well, I’ll know where to find you.” He smiled at her and then walked back into the museum. Just before he followed, the other man, Alfred, turned and looked at her, and the look on his face was as if he knew her, or knew what she was, and then he was gone also.  
  
“Mr. Wayne, Sir,” Alfred stated looking into the rearview mirror at the young man he had known since he was born. “Might I ask whom that young woman was?”  
“She said her name was Sofia Blake,” Bruce answered, gazing out the window to his left. “She just arrived in Gotham a few days ago from Paris. Works at the museum.”  
“Is she a person who goes all over the world searching for artifacts?” Alfred asked. The Rolls Royce rolled to a stop at a light, allowing Alfred to studying his employer as he spoke.  
Bruce smiled. “No. She catalogs the artifacts in the basement.” Alfred noticed that while Mr. Wayne was looking out the window, he was not seeing out the window. Night had fallen, limiting vision in the car without the overhead lights on, but he could still tell the young man was troubled.  
“Is there something wrong?” He asked. The light changed green so he accelerated the car forward.  
“I don’t know,” Bruce admitted, shaking his head slightly. “I was scanning the crowd from the bar, checking everyone out, and there she was, looking back at me. And for that second before I turned away, it was like the world stopped moving. I knew that if I didn’t find her, talk to her, I would regret it.”  
Alfred suppressed the sigh that threatened to come out. “Well, she was a very lovely young woman.”  
Bruce nodded, finally leaning back in his seat. “There is just something about her that intrigues me. I mean, she is beautiful – captivatingly so, but there is something else. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.”  
“What are you going to do, Sir?” Alfred was glad his smile was hidden.  
“See her again at my earliest possible convenience.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading this (who actually managed to find it). If it isn't too much trouble, let me know what you think.


	5. Dark Knight

The gala had been over for nearly an hour. Buffy had asked Dr. Livingstone if she could stick around and get a feel of the place. He had told her it would be fine. She had even helped clean up a little bit.  
Once the main lights were off, leaving just the auxiliary lights on to dimly light the place, the museum was kinda scary, but nothing that she wasn’t used to. She had been in much worse places.  
She walked through the exhibits before drifting down to the basement. No vamps had shown up during the party or the unveiling of the new exhibit, which had been a hit. It was a shame Bruce had missed it.  
Bruce. Oh, sweet heaven. What had she been doing? And thinking? And just… She wanted to scream. It was all a blur now. A pleasant blur that she revisited again and again as she strolled through the bowels of the museum. She could still see his eyes as if she were looking directly into them. They were a dark green, so bright, so open, yet there was mystery there, and she knew she just had to know what that mystery was. His smile was radiant and amazing. And just everything about him was perfect and astounding and, she felt like she was going mad.  
She knew she had to force him from her mind. She had just met him, and barely that, and even though he had told her that he would show her around, she wasn’t banking on it or anything. There were many other fish in the sea besides her, and she was sure that he had no trouble reeling in his fair share.  
Sighing, taking great effort to focus on what she had to do, she turned her attention to the vampires and the artifacts. Even though it was not allowed, she had snapped a few photos of the display and sent them to Giles and Willow. If they could tell her exactly which one, or ones, the vampires would be after, she could remove them, hopefully without too much suspicion.  
Nothing happened that night, and by morning she was out the door and on her way. She felt safe in the knowledge that the artifacts were secure in the daylight hours. After all a human would be seen on the security cameras and there were guards all over the place, even during the day. It was at night, her time that her senses were needed.  
Her official first day of work would not start until four that afternoon, so she had some time to kill. She went back to her hotel room, and before she knew it, she had called Willow on the phone and was telling her all about the gala and the man she had met.  
“Oh my Gosh!” Willow sounded elated. “Wow! Three nights and you already met someone?”  
“I haven’t met him met him. You know. It isn’t like anything serious or even remotely like I met him as in we are an item or something.” Buffy knew her words sounded lame.  
“Oh, come on. He followed you out there. That is interest. That is a lot of interest. And here you thought you were frumpy and you got the attention of a billionaire playboy philanthropist.”  
“A what?”  
“That is what it says on this website I am looking at.” Willow clicked her tongue. “Guy is popular and rich and, oh wow, you were right! He is something to see.”  
Buffy sighed, throwing herself down on her bed. Her hair was still wet but she didn’t care. “Yeah. I just bet he is popular. Models, actresses, and that entire bunch. Lifestyle of the rich and famous. So out of my league,” she stated and then added: “Even if I was interested.”  
“You so are.” Willow in a playful but mock scoldy kind of voice. “Cordelia would be so jealous.”  
Yes, she would, thought Buffy, if she was still around to be. Cordelia may not have been the nicest girl at Sunnydale High. In fact, she had been known as the Queen of Mean, but when her dad had gotten arrested, leaving her broke, Cordelia had toned down a bit, learned her lesson, or at least some of it.  
“Well, I am not going to get my hopes up. He has probably forgotten all about me by now.”  
“We’ll see, Buffy,” Willow said in a sagely voice. “We shall see.”  
  
Buffy figured that she would work hard, keep an eye on things, and by the time she got off work at eleven, she would be ready to slay around town, and keep tabs on the museum if the need arose. Willow and Giles were still looking up the artifacts, but her ex-Watcher had said that he thought this one particular bronze dagger looked familiar. Just to be on the safe side, she had removed it from the display, replacing it with a piece from the same era, and hidden it safely away in the vault in the basement. They wouldn’t get it so easily in there.  
She had also told Giles about Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred (Willow had found out this information online also) and how he had looked at her. Giles has stammered and said “You don’t say” a lot before telling her he couldn’t understand why he would do that, or how he would know her for any reason, and that he himself did not know the man, even though she had not asked if he had, which was very suspicious in her book. He had hung up before she could get any info out of him. She knew he was not telling her something.  
With that on her mind, she left the museum, locking up behind herself under the watchful eye of a guard who was very nice and kind, and grandfatherly. He kind of reminded her of Dick Van Dyke.  
She was no more than a block from the museum when her Slayer senses alerted her that there was a vampire nearby. Darting down an alleyway, she drew the stake from her purse, and went on the hunt.  
Several streets down, and down another alleyway she felt the presence of the vampire keenly. Keeping her back to the wall, she slowly made her way down the alley, keeping a sharp eye out for the vampire.  
The shadows in the alleyway moved up and down the sides of the buildings, hugging trash bens and darting around large crates tossed into a bulky pile. A rat scurried across a glimmering pool of water left by the recent rain that evening, but the downpour had done little to tone down the odor of the collected trash. She moved forward, her hand gripping the stake as she walked down the alley. Her senses tingled as she felt someone watching her from above.  
Her prey was a lone vampire and she wasn’t about to play coy while walking alone in an alleyway in the middle of Gotham City. Bracing herself for an attack, she quickly glanced upwards and spotted a large black shadow leap from one rooftop to the other. She called out a warning, thinking the vampire either arrogant to expose himself so readily to danger or perhaps foolish for providing her with his exact location. From the roof he gazed down at her from behind a black mask. It was no vampire. From head to toe the masculine figure was covered in a black material that was designed to fit his body snugly, and protect him from any attack that may come his way. He looked like a statue come to life. A black cape hung down his back and his head covering reminded her of a bat.  
She knew then that she facing Batman, the legendary crime fighter of Gotham, both loved and hated by the public.  
As he jumped off the building, his cape spreading out like bat wings behind him, all she could think was, “Man, I need an outfit like that.”  
She gave chase, darting around the corner at the other end of the alley from where she had entered, but by the time she got there, even with her Slayer speed, he was nowhere in sight. So busy was she looking around for him, that she almost missed the vampire about to attack her.  
Almost.  
With a quick spin, she turned, her foot connecting with the vampire’s chest and sending it flying backward. Before it could get up, she was on it, plunging the stake into its heart, turning it into a pile of dust. Standing, looking around to make sure no one had seen, she dusted herself off and brushed her hair from her face.  
“There. That’ll teach you.” She whispered, feeling rather proud of herself. But then a sensation went up her spine and she froze. She was being watched.  
She spun again, prepared to fight, even though her senses were telling her that there was no danger, at least not from the fangy, blood sucking kind, and there, perched on a ledge ten feet above her head, and about twice that distance down the street from her, was the Batman. He sat there, crouched down, balanced on the ledge, his elbows resting on his knees like he owned the place. In a way, Buffy guessed he did. He was staring at her intently, the shadows keeping his face, what was not covered by the cowl, hidden from her.  
“Hey!” She said. Not very original or mature, but that was all that she could come up with at the moment. She could not shake the feeling that for some reason, she felt connected to him in a way, a far, far away…way.  
He stared at her in silence. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to say anything. That he was just going to sit there and stare at her and make her even more uncomfortable with every passing second. Finally, though, he did speak.  
“Why are there vampires in my city?”  
No “who are you” or “what are you” or “how did you do that?” None of that. Vampires. He asked about vampires and why they were in his city, which meant he knew what they were, and he didn’t really seem all that bothered by them. It was as if they were just another nuisance like rats or mosquitoes.  
“Vampires?” She tried to sound dumb, and she had to admit sometimes she was better at it than she should have been. She was at a total loss here. “Um, well, I don’t really know. That is what I am trying to find out.” Honesty. The best policy.  
He sat there in silence some more, and then, moving swiftly, he stood and jumped to the street, landing perfectly and with very little noise. The cape wrapped around him, adding more darkness than before. She still could not see his face, only what her Slayer night vision could make out, which wasn’t much.  
“I killed three of them the other night. Four more a week before that,” he said, his voice all gravely and cool. Pretty cool. Wait!  
“You’ve killed some of them? How?” The question was blurted out before she could stop it.  
“Decapitation.” Simple answer. And it was obvious he was not going to elaborate.  
“How did you know what they were?”  
“It wasn’t too difficult to figure out.” He stood still, as still as a statue, and he was still watching her. It was familiar somehow. “I had seen them before. Years ago. In…another place.”  
Standing there, looking at him, she could not help but feel a certain sensation that seemed familiar, yet altogether foreign to her. She had felt this before. And not before before. She had felt it recently. Her Slayer senses were telling her something, but that something she had a little trouble believing in spite of the evidence presented to her by who and what she was. It was something more than just an undefined connection.  
She wanted to ask him more, but she knew he would not tell her more than he wanted her to know. Fine. Two could play at this game.  
“Well, that is good.” She turned on her heel and began walking, cool, calm, and collected, down the street. Just as she turned the corner, she felt a breeze ruffle her hair, and as she finished the turn to the next street, she came to a complete stop.  
He was standing in front of her.  
“I take it from the way you dealt with that vampire, that I do not need to tell you to be careful.” A statement and was that a hint of amusement in his voice?  
“No. You don’t”  
Then he stepped out of the shadows into the pale light from the street lamp across the way and she had to fight to keep from gasping and to keep her eyes from going wide in surprise.  
“Just the same: I think we both should be on our guard.”  
And then he was gone. Just like that. Up above the street. She watched him ascend and then disappear over the roof top.  
She stood there for several more moments, in a state of shock. She couldn’t believe it. She could not believe what she had seen. But now it confirmed what her Slayer senses earlier had told her. She had seen his eyes and the eyes never lie. She knew those eyes. She had seen them before, just last night, on the balcony at the museum.  
Those were Bruce Wayne’s eyes. Bruce Wayne, the ‘billionaire playboy philanthropist’ as Willow had called him, was Batman.  
“Get out of town!” She said in an excited whisper.  
This city just kept getting better and better in her book.


	6. Out and About

The next day was Friday. Good old Friday. Her last night to work until Sunday night.  
Not that she didn’t enjoy her job, but the text she had gotten from Giles confirmed that the bronze dagger she now had safely hidden away in her hotel room was the dagger the vamps were looking for, so she could concentrate on other things.  
She had spoken to Willow, told her about meeting Batman, but she had not mentioned that he was Bruce Wayne. She didn’t think she had the right to spread that bit of knowledge around, even to her best friend, who was several thousand miles away.  
She got a lot of cataloguing done that night, and afterward she took out a few vamps that had blipped on her Slayer radar. She walked the streets afterward, patrolling, but she neither saw nor felt Batman’s presence anywhere. She hoped he was safe.  
The next day, Saturday, she went to the staff meeting at the museum at 8:30, just before opening for the day. It was short, and was mainly her introduction to everyone for there were still a few people that worked there that she had not met yet. Everyone was warm and pleasant and she felt really glad to be there and was looking forward to being there for some time longer.  
She was making her way to the exit of the museum. There were crowds of people coming in to explore and learn and she dodged them all as she searched her purse for the key to her room. It had struck her right after the meeting that she did not recollect taking it with her. Great. Now she was locked out.  
Sighing, searching for the fifth time just to be sure, and not watching where she was going, she ran right into someone.  
“I am so sorry,” she began, looking up from the seemingly bottomless pit of a purse she had, when her eyes met a pleasant sight.  
She had run into the one and only Bruce Wayne.  
“I thought I would find you here,” he told her, his hand on her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”  
“Yeah. I just seem to have left my room key in my room.”  
“Oh. Well, that is easily fixed. Are you going back there now?”  
“No.” She shook her head, setting the purse strap on her shoulder. “I just wanted to make sure I had really forgotten it, but I was just going to. . . .” She motioned vaguely around, and then sighed. “I don’t know what I was going to do, but I was going to do something.”  
He smiled at her. “If you want to do something, I can show you around if you like. My car is right outside.”  
One second of thought on the subject. “Okay. That sounds nice.”  
It seemed kind of strange, knowing what she knew, and he not knowing she knew it, but he knowing what he knew, thinking that she didn’t know he knew.  
It was kind of sweet, in a confusing sort of way.  
He led her out of the museum and a little way down the block until he stopped next to a car that she could not believe he was opening the door to (it actually opened up instead of out) and motioned for her to get in.  
“Okay,” she said, sliding (yes, she actually slid) in. The seat was the most comfortable thing she had ever sat in, the leather all nice and soft and cool. The outside of the car was a dark silver gray, but the inside was suede brown. It was amazing.  
He got into the driver’s seat, the smile still on his face, and started the engine. It not only roared to life, but she could feel it in her bones. “Can you drive?” He asked her, his hand on the gear shifter.  
“Can I?” She asked, rhetorically. Of course she could drive. Knew how to.  
“Well, maybe once we’re out of the city, but until then, I think I will, just until you know where you are going.” His eyes still on her, he put the car in drive, and peeled out, merging with traffic.  
She started to call him a ‘smart-ass’, but the sudden acceleration and then the equally fast slow down to keep from hitting the car they had pulled out behind, jolted the breath out of her for a few moments.  
“So, where are we going?” She asked. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she was gripping the door awful tight. She hoped she hadn’t damaged it. She let go and put her hands in her lap where her purse was.  
Instead of an answer, she got that boyish grin again, full of mischief, and he turned down a side street that was void of traffic in their direction. He gunned the engine, taking this street, making the green light for the next two streets, in about twenty seconds, before screeching to a slower speed and turning down yet another street.  
Between the breakneck speed he traveled at times, and the constant turning, adding onto the fact she knew hardly anything about his city, she was soon utterly lost, with no idea where they were or where they could possibly be headed.  
Soon, the tall buildings thinned out and when he turned the car onto another street, the river was to her right, with warehouses across it on the other side. The sun was hidden behind the city to her left, only peeking out in the few seconds that they passed an open street on that side. The car was going incredibly fast at times, so some things were a blur even to her. They traveled this way for awhile until rounding the city on the northern edge, keeping the river to the right and the major hub of the city on the left. Soon, she could see the airport in the distance. But instead of taking the bridge, they turned right, and soon came to a marina full of large boats. He parked here, the car coming to a smooth stop, and turned off the engine.  
“Ready?” He jumped out of the car and came around to her side, opening the door for her. “This will only take a minute.” He offered her his hand and she took it, sliding out of the car this time. “You can leave that here.” He motioned to her purse, so she dropped it into the seat she had occupied. He closed the door and then, quite bravely, she had to give him credit, took her hand in his, and led her onto the docks. They went way down to the end to where a large yacht was sitting. White with black trim, the sails tucked in, it was a very beautiful and expensive looking wonder.  
“Yours?” She asked and he nodded. “It’s beautiful.”  
“Thank you,” he answered. He still held her hand, and he led her around the side, and once there, he pulled down a walkway. “After you.”  
She walked up and onto the yacht. It was incredible. She could see through the glass a large area with a full couch, chairs, a huge TV, and a fireplace right in the middle of the room. He opened the sliding glass doors and led her in.  
“The galley is below decks, as is the full master bedroom and bath.” He put his hands in his pockets, his gaze never leaving her as she looked around. The sofa and chairs were soft leather, almost as soft as the seats in the car. The tables were glass and the rug was plushy. She wanted to take her shoes off and rub her feet on it. “Do you like it?”  
“Yes,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. She peered out the other set of glass doors to the water beyond. “I have never been on anything like this before.”  
“Tomorrow night is a special night to the city. A Founding Day kind of celebration. They set off fireworks from the time the sun goes down until midnight. Beautiful to see from a roof top, but even more so from the water.” He paused, still intent on her. “I was going to take her out and watch them. I would like it if you came with me.”  
She froze, her eyes going wide. Wait a minute, did he just ask her to go out on his yacht with him, tomorrow night, to watch fireworks? She turned to him. “Really?”  
He nodded, hands still in his pockets, his eyes and mouth smiling. The suit he wore was just as immaculate as the one he had worn the other night at the museum, except this one was black, with a white pinstriped shirt, and dark gray tie.  
“But you hardly know me. Wait! You don’t know me at all.” Why was she arguing? Why was she wondering why she was arguing?  
“What better way to get started knowing someone then a night on the ocean with fireworks?”  
A night? Did he just say ‘a night’ on the ocean? She opened her mouth, but nothing intelligent tried to come out so she shut it again. She looked around, for a way out maybe, and finding none, she shrugged. “Why not?” She said with a laugh. Damn it, did she just agree with him, tell him that she would? What was it about this guy that she couldn’t say ‘no’ to?  
“Great. You hungry?”  
She was, having skipped breakfast. Back in the car, they drove into the city, and to a restaurant called Chillingsworth Bistro. Once again he opened the door for her and helped her out, handing the keys to a valet. Inside, he was recognized right away.  
“Mr. Wayne! Your usual table?”  
“Please, Rodney.” Rodney, the waiter or whatever they were called in this high priced establishment, led them to a table almost in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair for Buffy and then placed menus in front of them both. He bowed as he left, promising that someone would be along shortly. “I hope your disliking of your time in Paris did not include the food.”  
“No,” she answered, knowing French good enough to read the menu. “No. The food I liked.”  
“Good. Is it too early for wine?” He asked, glancing at this watch. “It is nearly eleven. Maybe a little.”  
Their waiter came and they ordered. Buffy ordered the Cognac Shrimp with Beurre Blanc Sauce, with a couscous and red pepper bean salad on the side. Bruce ordered the Wine-Poached Salmon with black truffles. In spite of what he had just said, he still ordered a bottle of wine: a Chardonnay she could only guess cost more than anything she currently owned combined. The wine came first and was poured. It had a nice mellowed green apple taste, with just a hint of oak. Chablis, if she had to guess. She had learned something while in France.  
They talked and laughed and then the food came and then they ate and talked and laughed some more. Buffy could not help but feel a little paranoid. Every time she glanced around, someone was looking at them. She imagined that anyone who was seen with Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s very own prince, was a topic of much discussion. She knew she should avoid this sort of thing, but her voice of reason was choosing at this moment to remain silent.  
The more time she spent with him, the more she realized that his spoiled, rich boy act was just that – an act. It was a mechanism designed to keep Batman as far away from him as possible, keeping the persona as distinguished as feasible to make even those who briefly thought for a second that there was a possibility that the two could be the same person to dismiss it instantly. In fact, he was more down to earth than she could have imagined, and the attention he got, while he appeared to revel in it, in actuality he wanted nothing more than to shy away from it. She guessed that he would much rather be left alone, fight crime at night, and just enjoy his days as he saw fit, out of the public eye, away from attention, without all the scrutiny. In other words, he just wanted to be left alone to do his thing.  
Once lunch was through, he escorted her back outside where the car was waiting for them. Back into the Gotham streets, he didn’t drive nearly as fast as he did before, actually going rather slow in her opinion, especially compared to before, as if taking his time before they said good-bye.  
“I shouldn’t have sprung the yacht and fireworks on you like I did. If you aren’t comfortable, and wanted to call it off, I would understand.”  
Buffy detected a note of insecurity. Go figure. He hid it well. She smiled at him. “Well, it was kinda sudden. Out of the blue sort of thing. I wasn’t expecting you to follow through with it though.”  
He pulled the car over to the side and put it in park. For a few moments he just sat there, staring at the street, a very serious look on his face. Buffy wasn’t sure what was going on, and she wondered if what she had said had made him angry.  
“There is just something about you that I can’t shake,” he admitted. “I know we barely know each other, but I can’t get you out of my head.”  
“What a coincidence,” she said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “There’s something we have in common.”  
He chuckled, shifting in the seat to look at her. “So, what do we do now?”  
She smiled, actually feeling herself blush like she was back in high school. “Play it by ear.”  
“Go where ever it takes us,” he said, nodding. “I can deal with that.” He put the car in park, but did not take off just yet. “So, tomorrow night?”  
She sighed, feeling truly, genuinely happy, if not a little scared. “What time should I be ready?”


	7. Woes of One Kind or Another

Buffy was more than a little embarrassed when they pulled up in front of the hotel she was staying at. Sensible or not, he was still a really rich guy. It wasn’t so much she was embarrassed for herself: she just didn’t like the thought of him being seen in a part of town that was not his usual circle.  
“This is not a safe part of town,” he commented, looking around the area from inside the car. She noticed the look on his face and it was not the look of a rich man viewing a poor neighborhood: it was Batman looking at a crime ridden area.  
An even more dangerous thought crossed her mind right at that moment: it was one that told her she could really love this man. Both of them. Equal and completely.  
“You should be here at night,” she teased, for once opening the door for herself. “A bag of Doritos and a soft drink and it is like Diner Theater, only urban warfare style.” She got out of the car and he followed suit, still vigilant.  
“Will you consider moving to a better part of the city?”  
She laughed. “Will the hotels in the better part of the city let me make a down payment on a room?”  
“I’ll take care of it.”  
“Bruce,” she said, turning to him. “I am not going to let you pay my way, just because you can.”  
“It would make me feel better. Help me sleep at night.”  
She almost blurted out “Like you sleep at night,” but she zipped her mouth shut to those words. “Really. I’ll be fine. I’ve stayed in worse, trust me.”  
He also started to say something, but it was apparently his turn to hold his tongue. He walked around the car to her. “If you need anything, call me.” He reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Then, he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his. After a few seconds of fiddling with both, he dialed his cell, and hers rang. “There. Now you have my number. Promise me, Sofia, you will call me if you need to.”  
She took the phone, shut it off, and replaced it in her pocket. She hated that he wasn’t calling her by her real name. She hated lying to him. “I will. Promise. Cross my heart and all that.”  
He nodded, and then he bent down and kissed her very lightly on the side of her mouth. “You can also call me if you just want to.”  
“Thanks,” she whispered, wanting so desperately to move just a little, turn her head just a little, and find his lips with hers. It was almost too much to fight. The scent of his cologne, the scent of him, the warmth of his body. Oh, how she wanted to feel him against her, his arms around her, the strength of him, and the weight of him. Instead she stepped back, feeling a little light headed. “I should . . . I really should go and see about getting my key.” Her heel caught in a crack on the sidewalk and she stumbled, but righted herself quickly. “Thanks and I will see you tomorrow.” She smiled at him, seeing the look in his eyes – Oh my God; he is thinking the same thing I am! – she shook her head and retreated as quickly as she could without being Slayer-ey into the hotel.  
  
Bruce had stood there until he could no longer see her which had been when she had entered the office of the hotel to get her key, and then he had stood there a little longer to watch her and the manager go to the elevator.  
What was it about this girl that fascinated him so? Yes, like he had admitted to Alfred, she was a beautiful woman, but that was not all there was to it.  
He got into his car, and merged with traffic again. The top was open, but he could still smell the perfume she had worn. The constant reminder of her as he drove was not helping him to clear his head.  
He had not meant to take her to the boat dock or onto his yacht, and he had certainly had no intention that morning when he woke up of asking her to join him on said yacht to watch the fireworks. Hadn’t he just met her? But he had taken her there and had asked her, and she had said yes.  
That thought alone made his stomach quiver with gladness.  
He sensed a confidence about her that was almost as attractive as her beauty, but then she could be awkward and a little clumsy at times, as if not used to the attention, or was used to the wrong kind of attention. All of this only added fuel to the fire.  
He had watched her during lunch as she had glanced around uncomfortably. Why would a woman like her not be used to attention? And then the conversation that they had had in the car before she got out. He had admitted being attracted to her, and she then had admitted that the attraction was mutual. That had been no lie: he was definitely engrossed, apparently so much so that his common sense took a back seat to it whenever he was around her.  
To top it all off, he had kissed her. Yes, it had been on the side of the mouth, but that had not been his objective at the moment. That had been a last minute infusion of his senses returning. No, he had very much intended to kiss her fully and completely right there on the street. He had wanted nothing more than to pull her body against his and make out with her.  
He wasn’t used to be effected like this and so easily. As he sped through downtown Gotham, he knew he had to figure out why.  
  
Buffy pulled the phone away from her ear and held it out at arm’s length as Willow let out a squeal of delight.  
“Oh my God, Buffy!” She squealed again. “I can’t believe it. Okay, so tell me: is he as hot as he is in the pictures in the Gotham Herald?”  
“Hotter. Way hotter. Total hottage.” Buffy admitted, happy for the first time in a long time.  
And also very much Wiggins.  
The nice clerk had quickly got her room opened, but it had been quick enough for her. Once inside her room, she had waited another five minutes before going to the window. Bruce was gone. She had been happy, but sad at the same time. In the short amount of time that they had been apart, she missed him. She had wanted to be near him again already. She had wanted to look him his eyes, to feel his body close to hers, his arms around her, to feel his lips again only this time on her lips or her jaw or collarbone or on her. . .  
She had forced that thought from her mind quickly, closing the drape, and flinging herself on her bed. Pillow over face so no one could hear her scream, and her feet kicking in the air. It had taken a really long and very cold shower to get her Slayer libido in check, and that had only done so much for so long.  
So, she had called Willow and now here they were talking about the one person she didn’t want to talk about but couldn’t help talking about.  
“So. Yacht. Night. Fireworks.” Willow was teasing.  
“Yeah. Just the two of us out on the water, at night, on his yacht.” She sighed again, for the millionth time it seemed. “The man is was out of my league.”  
“That’s stupid, Buffy.” Good ol’ Willow. No holding back. “He doesn’t think so, obviously, so you shouldn’t either. Besides, you deserve to have some fun. Some real fun. Some nice fun.”  
“Stop it!” Buffy practically screamed, even though she had been thinking the same thing since he had kissed her. Okay, she had been thinking it since the museum balcony pretty much. Desperate for a change of subject: “Anything about the ‘Insurrection’?”  
“No. Nothing. And Giles has been asking around a bunch, and no one has heard anything. Maybe it does have to do with that dagger. Is it well hidden?”  
“In my purse.” Buffy knew this wasn’t the best place to keep it. Obviously the dagger would have been safer in the vault at the museum where she had put it, but something had made her go and retrieve it. For good or bad, she would deal with it when she had to. “I thought it best to keep it with me.”  
“Good idea,” Will commented and Buffy could just visualize her friend nodding sagely. “Well, we will keep looking.”  
A knock at the door startled Buffy. She sat up staring at the wooden portal like it was about to come alive and attack her.  
“Will, I got to go. There is someone at the door.”  
“Maybe it’s your boyfriend.” Willow giggled.  
“Yeah, right. Later.” She waited just long enough for her friend to say goodbye and then she sat the phone aside. There was a small part of her that was afraid to open the door. But a large part of her wanted to run to it and open it wide. That part of her was also hoping that it was Bruce. Maybe he wanted to take her to dinner or try to talk her out of staying here again. Maybe anything. Whatever it was, she would let. Boy, would she let him,  
Just as she stood, just as she was preparing to walk around the bed, the door opened by its self, except it was off its hinges and across the room, crashing against the wall there. Buffy immediately went into defensive mode, crouching down, preparing to fight.  
The man who stepped in through the shattered door frame was not what she was expecting. Nor was he anything but human.  
He wore a dark green suit, with black question marks stitched into it. His tie was black with more question marks, except these were bright green. He wore a black bolo hat on top of his short brown hair with a green silk band around it, and he carried a cane in his hand, the handle shaped like another question mark. He wore dark glasses and shoes, and he walked in and looked around with a goofy smile on his face.  
“I must say, I expected the Slayer to have better accommodations. “ A slight British accent. Or maybe it was Scottish. “The way they talk about you, you are part boogie man and part Jason Voorhees to them.” He looked over at her. “Not even close. Hard to believe a pretty thing like you scares them so much.”  
“Who are you?” Buffy asked. Still crouched. Still ready to fight.  
“Oh, I’m just a man on a mission,” he stated, swinging his cane back and forth. “But if you have to call me something, just call me The Riddler.”  
That explained all the question marks, sort of. Him being a complete and utter nutcase took care of the rest.  
“You could have just knocked,” she stated nonchalantly. He was human. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she felt the existence of something that she should at least be worried about not too far behind him.  
“Subtle, but not my thing.” He skipped and jumped. Yep, definitely wacko. “You have something that they want and that I need.”  
The dagger! Buffy edged around the bed, closer to her purse. The dagger was in there, just sitting there. How stupid. Getting closer to where her purse was also put her closer to the window. It was only three stories down. She could handle that.  
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” He shook his head, a sad look on his thin face. “They thought that you wouldn’t, but I held out hope. Oh well. Mort. Get in here!”  
She thought of penguins and lemurs, but the thing that came through the door did not remind her of either of those things. Far from it.  
It was huge. Even bending down, its hunkered shoulders took out what was left of the door frame above him and then some. Its width was too great, but made room by demolishing the wall around the door. Even fully inside the room, it couldn’t stand up completely straight. It’s skin was a dark green mottled color, the face skeletal, but the rest of it was bulgy with muscles. The arms were longer than its legs and its steps seemed to shake the whole building.  
“What in the Hell is that?” Buffy asked, having never seen anything like it, and that was saying a lot.  
“Oh! Mort!” The Riddler motioned to the thing vaguely, bouncing on his heels. “He is just something I cooked up special for you. I regret it though, but can’t be helped.” He shrugged, swirling his cane and then turning to leave. “Get the dagger, Mort. Take care of her.”  
Mort roared and quicker than she could have imagined it could move threw her bed across the room and charged her. Buffy dodged, making a grab for her purse, and without thinking, jumped through the window.  
She landed on the street below. Not her best effort, but nothing was broken, so that was a plus. She quickly took off as fast as she could, the sound of Mort breaking through the wall where the window to her room had been coming from behind her. His bulk landed on the street below and she didn’t have to look to see that the concrete had cracked beneath his feet.  
Buffy could hear people scream from around her on the street, but she kept going. Mort was a good puppy: he had been told to hunt her and hunt her he would. She dashed around a corner; her purse gripped tight in her hand, and wondered what she was going to do.  
That was when she was grabbed around her waist and hauled into the air. She began to scream, but took control immediately. The arm around her was covered in black armor, the cape billowing in the wind. And, just for an added effect, the very light scent of a familiar cologne. . . .  
Up and up they went, then over the roof. Buffy was sat on her feet. Below she heard Mort bellow.  
“Better luck next time, pal,” she mumbled before turning to her rescuer.  
“It is after something you have?” Batman asked, peering over the side of the building they stood on top of.  
“Captain Obvious much,” Buffy said, drawing the dagger from her purse. “It’s this. Sacrifice, blood, blah, blah, blah, Hell on Earth or big bad demon to run amuck. Not sure which, but I am sure it is one of those.”  
He looked at the dagger in her hand and then looked at her. Those eyes. Still full of that deep emotion she had seen on the sidewalk earlier, but veiled. The man was a professional.  
And gorgeous no matter the attire.  
“Who was the man? The one in the green suit?”  
“Oh! He called himself the Riddler.” Buffy peered down to the street. Mort was gone. That was either a good thing or a bad thing. “Wait.” She gazed up at him, her hands on her hips. “How did you know about him?” She waited for an answer, but it was obvious that one was not forthcoming, because he turned his back on her and began to walk away. “Were you keeping an eye on me?” He kept walking, silent in every way. A girl could only take so much of this kind of treatment. She decided to play the only card she had left worth playing. “Bruce!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, things happen or will happen pretty fast between them. That is mainly because I wanted to get it out of the way to get to the fighting of bad guys and such.
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading. I hope you continue to enjoy.


	8. Seperate Ways

He stopped dead in his tracks, shrouded in his cloak and the shadows on top of the building. She took a few tentative steps toward him, stuffing the dagger into the waistband of her pants.  
“I’m sorry,” she stated, wringing her hands together in front of her. “That night in the alley. I knew it was you.”  
“How?” Deep. Gravely. Almost too softly spoken for even her heightened hearing to catch.  
“The eyes,” she said, taking another step forward. “The eyes never lie.”  
He took a deep breath and then spun back toward her. She was caught in those eyes, but her eyes had attention deficit disorder because they couldn’t decide if they should settle on those eyes or that mouth. Both were a good choice in her mind. Maybe she could use one eye to look at one and the other to look at the other. No, not possible so she skipped over looking stupid and tried to figure out a new plan. Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.  
She got caught in those eyes again, and they rooted her to the spot, but he had freedom of movement and closed the distance between them. When he stopped in front of her, he was so close that his cape brushed her legs. This close, she had to tilt her head way far back to look up at him, he was so tall. It was a little uncomfortable, but she wasn’t complaining.  
Close proximity, good, she determined. She could feel the heat from his body through the armor he wore, radiating out to her, beckoning to her. She wondered in that moment which persona captivated her more, but before that thought even finished going through her mind, she realized with positive clarity that it was just him. All of him, every part. Just this man, no matter what, or who he was. It was everything, completely and without hindrance. She wanted to know all of it, the good, the bad, and every tiny little thing that she was able.  
The effect he was having on her was significant, and not just the mental part. He literally made her feel physically weaker. Her knees felt like they were melting, her hands were trembling, her heart rate accelerating, and she could feel droplets of sweat running down her back and between her breasts. An ache. A need. A drive. A hunger.  
When she had the impulse to take that final step, that one last move that would put her right where she wanted to be, that was when it happened.  
Damn vampires!  
The first one landed right next to her, sharp talons digging into her scalp as it grabbed her hair and flung her backwards. She crashed into the half wall, a sharp pain riding her spine, and she grimaced. That one or another one was on her in a second. She managed to dodge the fist flying at her face, but it caught her in the shoulder instead. The force nearly threw her over the wall and to the street below. Looking down for a split second she knew she would not survive the fall. Sensing the vampire behind her, she kicked back with all her might, which was quite a lot, and sent it flying. By the sounds behind her, she knew that Batman was dealing with other vamps as well.  
Time to go into Slayer mode.  
She spun, catching another vampire in the jaw with her fist. She felt and heard the bones crack. Go on through with her spin, she caught the thing before it could fall, her hand digging into the jaw she had just broken, and flicked her wrist up and out. Another crack, this time the neck, and the vamp turned to dust. She was already moving, honed in on her next target. A roundhouse kick to the chest, another spin, and her hands found this vamps head as well. Another crack. More dust.  
She made a dive for her purse, coming up with it and reaching inside for the stake that was there. She took a moment to check on Batman. Whatever he was using, sliced through flesh and bone, dusting the intruders just as easily as she was. In that brief time, she marveled at him, how he moved, adapted. He was a sight to behold.  
The vampire that made a leap at her never had a chance. He came down. Mr. Pointy went up. Stake. Heart. Done.  
The two remaining that were still standing made the intelligent decision, and jumped off the roof to the street below. Buffy didn’t have to look to see if they had made it. She knew they had. Just one of the few advantages they had over her. They were far from her mind anyway.  
In the center of the rooftop, Batman stood back from her, a vampire lying mangled at his feet. His dark eyes were filled with intrigue as he stared back at her. She had no idea what he was thinking, but the fight had stirred something inside of her, something wild and dangerous, which needed release. Not ten feet behind him was a tall metal object, she didn’t really know what it was, but she didn’t really care either. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she walked over to him, pushed him back against the side of it, and kissed him. His arms were around her immediately and his lips broke free from her own, raining kisses upon her face and down to her neck. In an instant she was the one crushed against the side of the thing, the sound of the metal banging loud in her ears, with the Batman hiding her from view with his cape.  
Her mind was in a whirlwind. She couldn’t think of anything but him. She couldn’t feel anything but him. The city around them, the world beyond that, could have ceased to exist at the moment and she wouldn’t have cared less. He existed. She existed. That was all that mattered. His body against hers, hands caressing her, his lips leaving a hot trail on her skin. All of it was the most spectacular sensations she had ever experienced in her life. It was wonderful. Marvelous.  
And then. . . .  
“How long were you planning on lying to me?”  
Whoa! Slayer libido grinding to a halt. Not a pleasant feeling at all. Good sensations screaming ABORT! ABORT! World coming back into focus. Sights and sounds of the city speeding back with the force of a bullet train. Not good. Undeniably not good!  
“Wait! What?” Her mind was taking a little bit of time to start operating her higher functions again. It took her a short while for what he had said to her to make sense. “Lying to. . . . Oh!”  
And then he moved away from her and light and sound seemed to magnify. Her knees felt like they were going to give out on her so she gripped the metal behind her, feeling it bend under her touch. Her body was still a livewire, pulsating with desire. She could still feel him, smell him, and taste him, feel him pressing against her, his soft lips warm on her skin, but it was just the ghosts of all of this because he was standing several feet from her, his eyes hidden in shadow.  
“The attack tonight. The dagger you showed me. You could have told me about this in the alley.” His voice had an accusing tone to it that she not only did not like, but it was kind of making her mad. “I take it that your name is not really Sofia Blake. How long were you going to keep me in the dark about all of this? About you?”  
Buffy pushed herself away from the metal thingy. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. She honestly didn’t know that answer to his questions, and it hit her hard that she had majorly screwed up.  
“This city is mine to protect. Whether the people of Gotham like it or not, that is true.” His voice was still gravely, but for the Batman, he was yelling at her. “If I don’t know what is going on, what I am dealing with, people get hurt. People die. And when they do that falls on me.”  
“It falls on me, too,” Buffy snapped back. Anger was helping her get through the haze. “It is my job as the Slayer to take them out and keep them from hurting anyone. That is why I am here. The damage they do, the people they hurt, the lives they take, that is on me. Whatever blood they spill is on my hands.”  
“Those creatures invaded my city.” His voice had taken on an icy edge, and it cut right through her. “I am the one who has to deal with the aftermath of what happens here. Not you.”  
“Not me?” Buffy whispered, shaking her head.  
“You get to move on. Leave here. I don’t. I can’t.”  
“That’s not fair.” Her voice was cracking.  
‘No, but it’s the truth.” His tone had softened.  
And that was when it hit her. It was always the same and was always going to be. She was the Slayer. That took precedence over everything else, including what she wanted. She had let her feelings for him cloud her judgment, allowed her to think things that she shouldn’t have. If something happened to him it would be her fault and she couldn’t live with that. He had enough to worry about with adding her in the mix. Yes, he protected this city, but he was only human. The vamps knew she was here. If they found out about her and him. . . .  
“We can’t see each other anymore,” she said, and that tore the heart out of her. “They will kill you if they find out. . . . If I let anyone get close to me. It always happens. I can’t let that happen. I can’t. . . . I won’t.”  
“You get to make all the decisions now. Even for me?”  
“I am trying to protect you.” She looked up at him.  
“And who protects you?”  
Another blow, even though she knew he hadn’t meant it that way. She had to do this. She had to. No matter how much it hurt her. No matter how much it hurt him. It had to be done.  
“I do. No one else. Just me. That is the way it has always been. And that is the way it has to stay.” Realization was a bitch.  
“So, you are just going to walk away?” Not Batman’s voice. No. That had been Bruce this time.  
“It’s better this way.” She turned, tears burning her eyes. Next to the metal thing was the door inside the building. “Good-bye, Bruce. Stay safe. And please, stay away.”  
The door was locked, but it gave easily to her strength. With Slayer speed, she dashed through it and down the stairwell. Down, down, down. It all became a blur. She only stopped when she came to the bottom floor and once she did; her strength gave out on her. She slid down the wall next to the exit door, put her face in her hands, and wept.  
  
He flew over the city streets. His mind was divided between what he needed to do – his self appointed job as protector of Gotham, and what had just transpired on the roof top.  
What was the matter with him?  
He knew he should have kept walking. He should not have stopped when she called out his name, but he had and then he had turned around. He had looked into her eyes, just like the night of the museum gala and then later on after she had killed that vampire.  
Then he had made another mistake: he had kissed her.  
He couldn’t blame it on an adrenaline rush, no more than he could admit it had been due to residual after effects of battle. She had been spectacular to behold fighting creatures that weren’t supposed to exist. It had been convenient, that moment between them, taken unlike he had failed to on the street in front of her hotel earlier. And he knew without a doubt that if he had not gotten a hold of himself, that he would have taken her right there on the rooftop, up against the roof entrance frame.  
He had wanted to. More than anything had he wanted to.  
Whether fortunate or not, the Bat had taken over, wanting answers to the questions he had not really wanted to ask, and then it had all gone downhill from there. He had seen the hurt in her eyes and it tore at him still. He could have handled it differently. And not just tonight but from the moment he had met her, but he hadn’t. Like a lovesick school boy, he had pursued her and then crushed her all in a matter of moments.  
Even now, he wanted to go back, find her, tell her he was sorry, and beg her to forgive him. Start over. Hold her. Never let her ago.  
Steeling himself, knowing that what was done was done, he blended into the night, trying to forget and move on. It was a much easier thing to think than to do. He had to remember what it was she had said. She had called herself ‘The Slayer.’ He had to find out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I rush the relationship quite a bit, but I wanted to get it over and done with and get onto the fighting. Also, Buffy wasn't exactly slow in the relationship catagory on the show.
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading!!


	9. Life Goes On

The papers said the next day that what had happened at the hotel Buffy had been staying at had been the act of a rival gang trying to get back at the gang who claimed the area as their own.  
Whatever it took to make them feel better and to ignore what was really going on around them.  
Once she had composed herself, Buffy had made for the museum, and that was where she stayed. She sat amongst the boxes full of bones and old things, and tried to get some kind of focus. When she wasn’t staring at nothing, she was crying like a little girl, and sometimes she did both.  
Around noon, she heard the sound of Dr. Livingstone’s wheelchair. It was coming closer. She wiped her face, picked herself up, and stepped out to find the doctor sitting there.  
“I heard what happened, child. Are you alright?”  
I’m fine, Buffy thought to herself. My world is shattered. A man I cared about, I had to push away to keep him safe. My heart might as well be collecting lint in the bottom of my purse, but hey, I am still the Slayer, and that is all that matters, isn’t it?  
Out loud, she said “I’m fine.”  
Dr. Livingstone brought his chair closer to where she stood. “I talked to Rupert,” he said. “Is the dagger in a safe place?”  
Buffy was shocked. “He told you about the dagger?”  
“My dear,” he chuckled. “I maybe old, but I am not stupid. I have had several artifacts come through this museum over the years that were dangerous. I used to be able to send them to the Watcher’s Council, but since they are no more, I have to be more creative. But never before has one caught the interest like this one has. It was amazing you showed up when you did. When your friend, Willow, told Rupert you were coming here, he called me. We weren’t sure which artifact it was exactly, but we needed you here to keep them away until we could find out.”  
“Oh!” That was all she could say. Nice to be kept out of the loop and not be told the whole truth.  
Ouch! Now she knew what it felt like.  
“Come on.” Dr Livingstone piloted his wheelchair around. “There is a room on the top floor that we had converted into a mini apartment. I used to stay there on nights when I was able to work much more than I can now. Like I said, it is mini, as in small, but it has a comfortable bed and a nice bathroom. Get yourself cleaned up and get some rest. Rupert is working on his end and I am going to work on mine. We will figure this out.”  
As Buffy followed him, she kept thinking about Bruce.  
She missed him. And it hurt.  
  
Willow tried to make her feel better, as any great friend would, but it was no use. No matter how badly Buffy wanted to feel better, it just wasn’t happening. So, they had both given up, and turned to the matter of the Insurrection. There wasn’t much news there, so they hung up, Willow just as depressed as her friend.  
That night, Buffy watched the fireworks from the museum roof. She saw them, the colors exploding in the sky and lighting up the night, and they were beautiful, but she couldn’t enjoy them.  
She wondered where Bruce was. If he was watching the display. Several times she took her phone out, wanting to push that button, wanting to hear his voice, but all she did was stare at the number before putting the phone back into her pocket. She had felt loss like this before, but this time was different. Before, no matter how badly she had wanted it, happiness was just right beyond her reach. Maybe she had brushed it with the tips of her fingers, but it was fleeting, and then gone. This time, however, she had gotten a hold on it. Bunched it up into her hands, knowing she could hold onto it forever. Only to have to pry her fingers off of it, and let it go.  
There were times she resented what she was. This time, she hated it.  
After the fireworks, she patrolled. Found a nest of seven vamps and dusted them. Find a slimy demon and took care of it. Beat another to a pulp. The work kept her busy, kept her mind on what she had to do. The times in between were horrible.  
She could still smell him. Still feel him. She could hear his voice. It tore at her.  
Her heart froze.  
She would find herself looking up, searching for some sign of him, but never finding any. There were a few times that she would hear a voice, only to realize that it was her own whispering ‘please’ into the night. It clawed at her.  
Her heart shattered.  
This is how it went on for two weeks. She was awake, she knew she was, but she also felt only half of herself. It was like the other half had been ripped from her, only after having just found it. No, not ripped from her. She had tore it away herself and flung it out of reach, never to return.  
She went through the motions. Slaying when she had to. Doing her job at the museum. Eating. Sleeping. Walking. Talking. All on autopilot.  
She dreamed about him. Sometimes he was standing on his yacht, waiting for her. Other times, they were in his car. He would smile at her. Touch her. When she awoke she could still see his face, still feel his skin upon hers. It was torture. She didn’t know how much longer she could bear it.  
She was getting desperate. She wanted to get this Insurrection thing taken care of so she could leave Gotham. Get away from this city. Get away from him. Get out from under his shadow. It followed her everywhere.  
His shadow. She remembered what the old woman had said to her in Paris. It had to mean that she had to do this while in the city, the city he protected. That she had to be here. That was the only thing that made sense. What else could it be?  
She knew she had to get over this. Get over him. But it was so hard to do.  
  
Buffy wasn’t the only one suffering.  
The change in Bruce Wayne had been apparent the moment he stepped out of the elevator leading from the mansion to the bat cave. Alfred could see it as plain as day. Before he had left the evening before to patrol the city as Batman, Bruce had been the most cheerful Alfred could remember him being in a long time. He had been smiling. Beaming. And all he could talk about was that girl. Sofia Blake.  
Buffy Summers.  
Alfred hated that he hadn’t been able to tell him the truth about her, even though he understood the reason why. It was her secret to tell. Other secrets were not the same. He was good at keeping them. He had been keeping several over the years and one in particular that Bruce Wayne must never know.  
Alfred was glad, however, glad that she had come along and that the man he had watched grow up, raised after his parents had been murdered, had found the light to lessen the darkness in him.  
But when Bruce had returned the next morning, Alfred would have had to have been blind and dumb not to see the change in him. He was a shell, even more empty than he had been before. The light gone out of his eyes. His face set as if made of cold stone.  
He had refused breakfast, retired to his room, and stayed locked up the rest of the day. When night fell, Alfred heard the elevator. That was the only sign he had had that Bruce was up and about.  
When he returned the next morning, Alfred managed to coax him to eat, but it had been very little, and then back to his room. This was the pattern until Monday, when he had meetings to attend to and functions to show up for. Through these, he was nothing more than an automaton: all motions put on autopilot. Every smile he faked. Every laugh was forced. And when the parties were over, when he returned back to his mansion, his fabulous acting done, he would mope until sundown.  
Finally, the next weekend, while he sat in the library, staring out the window, listless, he told Alfred what had happened. Alfred wished there was something he could so to make it all right again. But he couldn’t figure out what to do. He was at a complete loss.  
Then, after much deliberation, and arguing with himself, he picked up the phone and called Rupert Giles.  
“I have to break the rules,” Alfred told him. “I have to tell Master Wayne the truth.”  
Giles agreed, much easier than Alfred thought he would. He hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and then took the elevator to the bat cave.  
It was time to fix this.  
  
Marcy Reinhold was a nice girl. PhD in archeology. A pretty girl with a nice, good looking husband, a nice car, and a cheerful personality.  
Buffy thought she might hate her.  
Marcy had been coming down into the basement before she left work every day, as if she had made it her life’s mission to make Buffy not be miserable. She would talk and talk and Buffy would listen and listen, all the while wishing she would just go away and leave her alone.  
On Friday, two weeks after, what Buffy had began calling “The Day Her Heart Went on Permanent Vacation” Marcy came down to see her with a proposition.  
“You have to go to this party with me. My husband is sick and I don’t want to go by myself. It is a charity event for the Gotham City Hospital, Children’s Wing. Dr. Livingstone agreed that you should go with me to represent the museum since we are going to bring some of the kids to the museum to spend the day for free. We are going to make it a regular thing. Light casual. Please! You have to go! You need to leave this museum once in a while.”  
Buffy really did not feel that she had to go. And she did leave the museum at night, to slay things that creeped around and had a nasty bite. But she was not about to tell Marcy that. It took her all of five minutes to realize that the woman was not going to leave her alone until she agreed to go unless Buffy was willing to force her to go.  
She wasn’t.  
Luckily, what she lost in the gang (demon and madman) attack on her hotel, she had been able to replace when she got paid the week before. Plus, Willow had sent her a few things, and a few dollars to help her along. She had clothes, nice ones, and by Saturday night, she was actually looking forward to the event.  
That was until she got into Marcy’s car, and was half way there, when she became conscious of the fact that there was a good chance that Bruce would be there. That thought almost made her open the door of the moving car and jump out. She had thought it, but not done it. Why? She asked herself. Even as she was going in the front door, she knew the reason why. She just wanted to see him again, if just from across a crowded room without him knowing she was there.  
Oh sure, she read the papers. She saw every picture of him. She had all of them neatly cut out and hidden in the pages of a book she would never read. Articles that just mention his name, they were in there too.  
She could lie to herself and say that the pain had lessened.  
It would definitely be a lie.  
And it hurt like Hell when she did see him.


	10. Come What May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definately an adult rated chapter. I would like to thank my friend, Susanne, for her input and help on this chapter.

There he was, standing across the room from her. And he was not alone. There were two very tall, very beautiful women standing one on either side of him. He had his arms around them, laughing, and carrying on. What a jerk!  
What a handsome, gorgeous jerk that Buffy wanted so bad she could scream.  
She pushed her way through the crowd to the bar. The bartender gave her a glass of champagne and she gulped it down. He refilled her glass. She left the bar, going over to the far side of the room, her eyes finding Bruce again immediately.  
He was still there, having a great time it seemed. Figures that she would be pining away, crushed and full of regret while he had obviously gotten over her fairly quickly and was moving on.  
She didn’t know whether to go punch him or slap him.  
She did know that whatever one she did choose, she would then kiss him, whether he was conscious or not.  
She watched him as she made small talk when she had to, but she always made sure she could see him no matter what. He was wearing a medium gray, pinstriped suit; with a white shirt also pinstriped with what she would see were a pale blue color, and a black silk tie. His hair was perfect. His dark eyes bright, though there were a few times she could have sworn a shadow feel across them.  
And then it happened.  
She had taken her eyes off of him for just a second. Just to look down at her half empty glass, thinking that half empty meant time for a refill. When she looked back up, there he was, immaculate suit, beautiful women still attached to his sides, and he was looking at her.  
Their eyes met and for a moment everything froze. It was like being shocked with a high voltage of electricity. She was surprised her hair was not standing on end. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the crowd dissipated as if sucked from the room. He stared back at her, his face blank, his eyes dark and penetrating. It seemed like forever, but it was only actually for a second and then, just like that, he turned away from her, gracing one of the bimbos at his side with a smile, and Buffy was forgotten.  
It pissed her off.  
It totally sent her Slayer libido into overdrive.  
The champagne was going to her head. It was either that or the cologne worn by Bruce Wayne that was making her tingle from head to toe. She could smell it from where she stood, over all the other scents in the room. Her dress felt confining and she slipped out of her high heels shoes, kicking both off in separate directions, not caring at all about what anyone thought. Truth be told, she was daring someone to say something.  
Bruce had moved from where he had been holding court all evening, and was now seated on a couch between the two young women who were wearing dresses that looked like something out of Vogue. They were obviously models and by the silly grins on their faces it was clear Bruce was entertaining them with a story; she couldn’t imagine either woman had anything more interesting to say than what they’d eaten and then thrown up in the same afternoon. Despite feeling a little jealous and more than a little dislike for each of the women pawing at his arms, Buffy came toward the couch, her eyes focused on Bruce, the rest of the world shut out around her. He paused in mid-sentence, taking in her approach with lewd approval and casually slid his arms around either woman soliciting a giggle from both.  
Buffy tossed her hair back, gliding by the couch, fuming inside until a young man with blonde hair and a wild flowered shirt hurried over to her, carrying both of her shoes. She paused, allowing him to kneel and slide the shoes onto her feet, her gaze transferring from the newcomer to Bruce. When the man stood up, he blocked her view of the billionaire playboy philanthropist. His offer to get her a fresh drink was accepted and she took his arm as they walked over to the bar together. Taking a seat on a stool, she laughed and nudged her new friend while he told her in an animated voice about the stock market and his family’s home on Martha’s Vineyard and how she would fit in so nicely with his friends. She accepted the invitation to join him for the weekend, not at all meaning to go.  
After two rounds of drinks came and went, her attention remaining on the blonde and not on Bruce, she was not at all surprised when a figure slid in between them and ordered three champagnes. It was Bruce. She ignored him, though she was well aware when his hand slid across her thigh. He was standing far too close. Close enough to tell the other man that he was out of his league, and needed to move on.  
The three champagnes he had ordered were placed on the bar, but ignored. Bruce turned toward Buffy and with a sigh and a tilt of his head, suggested they walk out into the courtyard to enjoy the sunset. She slid her arm through his and allowed him to guide her through the throng of people out to the courtyard which was lit with tiki torches around a swimming pool. Not sure what he intended, she permitted him to walk her around the pool and down a pathway bordered with flowering bushes. The moment they were out of sight of the crowd, Bruce jerked Buffy into his arms and up against his chest. She melted against him as his lips brushed across her own. She couldn’t help but respond to him.  
"What about the party? Your friends?" She managed to ask as he turned her around and walked her backwards, his lips latching onto the spot right below her left ear.  
"Friends?" He chuckled as he guided her farther down the path. She soon found her back pressed against what she could only guess was a very tall hedge. It was kind of prickly on her back. "I don't know half of them and the ones I do know, I don't like."  
"What about the models? You seemed to like them well enough."  
Again he chuckled, his breath tickling her ear. "I was only with them for the attention. The second I saw you they became props to make you jealous."  
She had a feeling she should be angry at his words, but for the life of her, she just couldn't be, especially when his hands trailed down her thighs, only to grip them and pull her up and off her feet. She wrapped her legs around him without delay, her shoes once again kicked off. Her back slammed into the hedge behind her -- there was something else keeping it in place -- as her arms came around his neck. He had succeeded in making her jealous, that was for sure.  
Heaven help her, she wanted this man.  
The mid-thigh length black dress she had worn had been a great choice. Deciding against the black panty hose had been an even better one.  
His mouth found hers again, rough and desperate. She returned it with equal fervor. Her hands plummeted into his hair, yanking it just hard enough to make him growl, truly growl, and bite her bottom lip. Satisfied that she had thoroughly mussed his well groomed hair, she trailed her hands down to the two buttons of his jacket that were buttoned up. They popped off so easily. So much for the $5,000 suit. She didn’t care if it stayed on or went off, just as long as it was out of the way.  
His belt was next, undone, and pulled out, making a sound almost like a whip as it did. She told herself that she needed to gain a little bit of control here. She didn’t want to damage his suit anymore than she had, and she didn’t want to damage him any more than she needed to. She needed him fully functional. So, she took great care not to tear the button off the slacks he wore, or to mangle the zipper.  
He, on the other hand, didn’t give a damn about being gentle or careful with her clothing. Point proven when the underwear she wore was torn apart like the flimsy material they were made of.  
The kiss stopped for a brief moment, his lips lingering against hers, every breath he took was hers and vice versa. Then he plunged back in, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She was so into it that when he thrust into her, it caught her off guard. She broke the kiss to yelp, but it turned into a long, drawn out moan. She threw her head back, her hair catching whatever the hell it was behind her. His lips latched onto her neck, teeth nipping just enough to sting in a very good way. One of her hands found its way into his hair again, while the other took a death hold onto his jacket just above his shoulder blade. Seconds later, she heard the expensive material tear. He didn’t seem to care, so neither did she.  
He pressed her harder into the thing behind her, her head banging into it every time he thrust into her. She was making noises she had never made before, wouldn’t have even guessed that she could make. She could hear the party in the house, but it was like white noise. The sounds that were prominent to her were the ones she and he were making.  
It was building. Intoxicating and marvelous. Buffy was far from innocent, even though it had been a while, but she swore she had never had it like this. It was all consuming, magical, soul shakingly divine. It was perfection. It was absolute bliss. The most intense experience she had ever had, and it wasn’t even over yet.  
Her head fell forward, some of her hair staying with the thing behind her as she did so. He kissed her again, and then nipped his way to her ear. “Listen to me,” he whispered with significance. “I don’t care who you are or what you do. It doesn’t matter a damn bit to me, because it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Come what may, you are mine.”  
That did it. She dug her nails into his scalp and his shoulder, leaning her head forward to bite the material of his jacket on the undamaged side to stifle the scream that erupted from her. She rode the wave out with an almost frantic delight. Her heels dug into his thighs. He kept one arm around her, holding her tightly and securely, while the other slammed into whatever was behind her, moaning her name as he spilled liquid heat deep inside her.  
Coming down was a slow process. She opened her eyes, half expecting a crowd to be gathered at the end of the pathway after having heard them, but there was no one, and the party could still be heard undisturbed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his hair, and whispered “Yours.”  
With his one arm still holding her up, he used his other hand to cup her chin and gently urge her to look at him. When she did, his eyes were bright and dancing with joy and love. Love! He smiled at her, an ear to ear grin that was contagious, causing her to return it. He kissed her again, deeply, but much more slowly than before. When they took a break to breathe, he put his forehead to hers, their bodies finally cooling down and calming.  
“Buffy,” he said and she recognized that this was the second time he had said her name, her real name.  
“Yes,” she answered. She wanted to know how he knew, but now was not the time to ask.  
“Come home with me.”  
“Okay.”  
It took them a few moments for her to get her legs underneath her when he set her feet back down on the ground. Once she he was sure she was steady; they went about cleaning up the mess they had made. He found his belt. She had actually thrown it hard enough that it was wedged into a potted rose bush. Yanking it free severely damaged the foliage. She found her torn underwear down the path a ways by one of her shoes. The other had cleared the path and was lying by the pool. This gave them a good laugh and Buffy dashed out to get it, while he made sure no one happened to be watching, and then she ran back to him where he caught her in his arms, kissing her again.  
They had to take care not to be seen. In order to do so, they had to skirt around the one side of the pool and quickly to another pathway that led to a gate. They laughed like a couple of teenagers the whole way. Once at the gate, Bruce opened it just enough to peer around to make sure no one happened to be standing out there. While he checked, Buffy had to stifle a laugh at what would happen if someone did catch them, especially one of the Gotham City Herald’s reporters that seemed to follow him around everywhere. What would people think if they saw Bruce Wayne leaving a party with his shirt untucked, his jacket torn at the one shoulder, his hair a mess, and his belt and one black high heeled shoe in one hand, while the other was entwined with the hand of a young woman with holly bush scratches on her back, her hair tangled, and her torn underwear and the other black high heeled shoe in her other hand?  
What a scandal that would be!  
Fortunately, there were no other people out and about. His car was parked across the street and once he had disarmed the security alarm, they made a mad dash for it. As soon as they were safely inside, he Bruce started the engine and floored it, spinning out in a barrage of smoke as they took off.  
“How are the models going to get home?” She asked in mock concern.  
“Not my damn problem,” he answered.  
All of this was the funniest thing to the both of them. The night was cool, the sky clear and full of stars, with no traffic on the streets. The sunroof was open, and Buffy, feeling very brave, stood up, one foot in her seat, and the other on the console between the seats, and enjoyed the wind in her face, whipping her hair around. While she did so, she felt Bruce’s hand on the back of her of her knee, and then his lips on her thigh. This prompted her to take her seat, telling him to “find some place to park this car” as she did so.  
He wasted no time in taking her advice and after another intense round of lovemaking, where she was pretty sure they dented the hood of his very expensive Lamborghini in the process, they were off again, heading for the Palisades, where he lived.  
Wayne Manor could be seen a mile away and as they got closer, it got bigger. Buffy was not only very impressed, but a little intimidated.  
“Hey,” he said, drawing her attention away from what they were heading toward and to him. He took her hand, holding it tightly, and kissed her knuckles. “Don’t worry, all right?” It was as if he could read her mind, pick up on what she was feeling. “From this moment on, what is mine is yours. Got that?”  
Though the console was in the way, she managed to lean over it enough to kiss him and then put her head on his shoulder.  
The gates opened as they approached and he sped up to the front, parking the car as close to the door as possible. Once inside, he cautioned her to keep quiet as to not wake up Alfred, who had left a light on for his return, and they crept to and up the stairs, down the hall and to Bruce’s room.


	11. A Big Place To Call Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed the spacing so it is not all bunched up. Sorry about that!

Morning found birds singing in the trees outside, and Buffy’s head feeling as if she had drank way too much and had even more fun.

Oh, that was right, she had.

She pulled the silk sheet over her head, trying to obliterate the sunlight coming through the half opened drapes. She was afraid to move. She was so comfortable. The sheets were cool against her naked skin, the pillow nice and soft, and the mattress firm under her body. It was the most amazing bed she had ever slept in. Of course, for all of its amazingness (so not a word, but she couldn’t think of a real one that was a better), it wasn’t nearly as amazing as the man who was in the bed with her. 

She was tucked firmly against him, her back to his front. His arm was draped over her stomach, holding her securely in his sleep. His breath on her neck, his legs tangled with hers. All of this was beyond amazing. What was even better: he wasn’t going to try and kill her because he had lost his soul in a moment of happiness. It was truly a wonderful bit of knowledge.

Bruce stirred behind her, his arm tightening around her, and then he untangled himself from her and sat up.

“Morning,” he said, smiling over at her. 

“Morning,” she returned, reaching up and brushing his sleep tasseled hair out of his eyes. He was handsome all the time, but while sleeping or having just woken up, he was adorable. 

He lay back down on his back. Buffy turned over and put her head on his shoulder. “I think I am worn out.”

Buffy giggled. “I have a hangover and by back is all itchy. And I think,” she began, reaching behind her head, combing through her hair, and just as she thought: “I have a holly leaf stuck in my hair.”

Bruce laughed and took it from her, twirling it around in his fingers. “You should be more careful when you are having sex in a stranger’s back yard, with a house full of people, all there for charity.”

She slapped him lightly on the chest, and then sat up herself, looking around. It had been dark when they had come in last night, so she hadn’t really gotten a good look at his room. “Nice. Classy, yet refined. Elegant, yet not too posh.”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting up next to her. He kissed her shoulder. “Not to put a rush on you or anything, but Alfred should be about to bring me my morning drink, so you might want to put something on.”

“Oh!” As he got out of bed, she looked for her dress. Okay, she did not spend any of that time looking for her dress. That would have just been stupid of her.

She watched him go over to the dresser and pull out a pair of sleeping pants. She was majorly disappointed when he put them on. “You can wear this.” He pulled out the matching button up shirt and tossed it to her. 

Buffy tossed the covers away and pulled on the shirt. She was just finishing with the last button, standing up to find that the hem of the shirt nearly reached her knees, when there a knock at the door. She froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Mr. Wayne? Are you awake?” Alfred. Buffy wondered if she could squeeze herself under the bed real quick.

“Yes, Alfred. Come on in.” Bruce answered, shaking his head with amusement at the look of panic Buffy gave him.

The Englishman entered the room, carrying silver tray. On it was a tall glass of…green, gross-looking stuff.

“Here you are, Sir,” Alfred stated, setting the tray down. He then turned and, Bless the man, didn’t even flinch when he saw Buffy standing there, in nothing but the shirt that matched the sleeping pants that his employer was wearing. “Good morning, Miss Summers. If I had known you were here, I would have brought you some orange juice.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled sheepishly, folding her arms over her stomach, feeling very awkward. “And good morning to you too, Alfred.” 

Bruce picked up the glass, and raised it in salute to his butler, a smile on his face. “Thanks, Alfred.” He drank the green stuff down quickly, sat the empty glass back on the tray, and then proceeded to drop to the floor, and…do pushups.

“You are most welcome, sir.” Alfred picked up the tray and went to the door. “Breakfast is in half an hour.” He bowed his head slightly to Buffy. “Miss Summers.” And then he was gone, the door securely closed after him.

“You worry too much,” Bruce told her from the floor. He was doing an extreme set of pushups, very fast, full pushups. 

“Is it something he is used to?” Buffy just had to ask, but she did it in a teasing way to cover her tracks. “Is he used to coming in and finding a strange girl in your room, wearing your clothes?”

Bruce laughed. “No, he is not. Trust me. In fact,” he said, jumping to his feet. Buffy had counted fifty-five pushups, but she had not counted them all. “He has never seen it before.”

“Really?” She asked, scrunching up her nose in disbelief. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. When I came back here after being overseas, I took on the Batman persona. Had to be kept a secret, so I don’t have many guests. Couldn’t take the chance.” He came over to her, gathering her into his arms. He smelled delicious. “We have time for a quick shower before breakfast.”

“And just what am I supposed to wear to breakfast?” She pouted, just a little, kissing his chest. 

“I have a robe. In fact, I have several of them.” He cupped her check, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “You can wear whichever one you want.”

“Shower then food. Sounds like a plan.”



The shower had taken a little longer than the twenty-five minutes they had before breakfast. It was more like forty-five-ish. While Bruce did what guys do, shave and such, Buffy went to find which robe she wanted to wear. She finally found them among all the suit jackets, shirts, and everything else. The robe went practically down to her ankles, but was silk, and very nice. 

“After breakfast, I’ll show you around,” Bruce told her as he came back into the room. “Everything. All of it.” 

When they went downstairs, Alfred was sitting in a chair by a window, reading the paper. “Your breakfast is in the kitchen on the table,” he said, without looking up from his paper. “It’s probably cold by now. Enjoy.”

Bruce led Buffy to the kitchen and they talked while they ate. He told her about how the house had been destroyed a few years before, burned down, and that he had had it built back brick by brick just like it had been before. Some things could not be replaced, but they had managed with everything else. And yes, their breakfast was cold, but the coffee was hot.

After eating, he did as he had said he would: showed her around the place. The house was beyond huge, and soon, even with Bruce holding her hand, she was lost beyond hope. She knew that if she had been by herself, she would never have found her way out of here. It was pouring rain outside, so he took her into a room with a piano in it.

“You play?” She asked, her eyes taking in everything. 

The look on his face suggested he didn’t. “No. Except for this.” He then hit two notes at once, another two notes, and then finally a third. They didn’t go together at all, and while Buffy was not an expert in playing either, they sounded off key, as if the instrument was in desperate need of tuning. She was about to tease him when one of the bookshelves in front of them slid open. “Come on.” He took her hand once again, and led her through the opening. It closed up behind them. They then went down a long staircase, and finally to a very old looking elevator, but without walls. Just a floor and a few bars. Going down the staircase, they had made the transition from the house to what had to be a cave like area. The walls and ceiling became rock and stone; formed over the years by the water she could hear dripping into natural formations. 

The elevator was fast and reached the bottom in record time. It didn’t take Buffy long to figure out why he had brought her down here: it was where Batman lived.

He showed her where he kept his armor and equipment, where he worked on said equipment, and the car…tank…vehicle he drove. There were bats everywhere. There was not an inch of the ceiling of the cave that was not occupied by the flying creatures. They made constant noise, but most of it was drowned out by the waterfall in the back. Through it was where he entered and exited the cave with the…vehicle. The floor was wet and slick, but not too hard for her to traverse. In an area in the back, built into the stone, was a room with a computer, a few large screens, and other types of electrical equipment. 

“This is the Batcave,” she stated, smiling as she took it all in. 

He nodded, leaning against a table, hands in his pockets, watching her. “Yes,” he said softly. He felt at that moment that it was not possible for him to take his eyes off of her. Truthfully, he couldn’t think of a reason to want to stop looking at her – ever. “There are a lot of things we need to talk about.”

“I know.” Buffy nodded. Playtime was over. Now the not-so-fun stuff had to be taken care of. 

So, there in that cave under his mansion, they talked about the stuff they had been avoiding. He told her about his parents and what had happened to them, and what had happened to him afterward, what he had become. He told her about Ra’s Al Ghul and the League of Shadows, and how he became Batman. Rachel Dawes, Harvey Dent, the Joker, the Scarecrow, and how he had lost Rachel, how Dent had fallen, and how he, Batman, had taken the fall for it all and why. 

And then it was her turn. Demons, vampires, living over a hell mouth, her mother, her sister, Angel, Spike, having died twice, looking into hell, Riley, being in Heaven – all of it. Though there were somethings that she didn’t want to tell him, she did so anyway. She wanted to be completely honest and hold nothing back. He had to know everything, no matter how dark or how ashamed of it she was.

After it was all done and everything put on the table, so-to-speak, they sat there in silence absorbing all that they had just heard and learned. Buffy was afraid of a lot of the things she told him changing how he thought and felt about her, but the one that she dreaded the most was the fact that she had been dead and buried for three months. It was a lot for a guy to take in, and maybe deal with.

Finally, he turned and looked at her. Though she loved looking at him and being looked at by him, this was different. It was like a scrutiny and like he was trying to make up his mind about something. She was even more afraid now.

And then he said what she did not expect him to say. 

“I love you.”

She got all warm and fuzzy. Giddy. Bubbly inside. Tears stung her eyes.

“And I love you,” she whispered as he brought a hand up to wipe away an escapee from her tear ducts.

“But, I think there is a difference between ‘loving’ someone and ‘being in love’ with someone.” 

The bubbly was beginning to pop. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. 

“Loving someone,” he continued, “is general. You can love many people in many different ways. But it is not as intimate as being in love with someone. Being in love with someone is unconditional, powerful, eternal, and I believe that only truly happens once to a person in their life.”

Buffy had a very bad feeling. Thoughts of her times with Angel and how she had felt about him popped into her head. What Bruce had told her about Rachel Dawes came up as well. Her mouth felt dry, like desert dry, and her skin felt chilled all the way down to her bones. She wanted to tell him that she knew now, she knew that person he was speaking about, for her, and had not been Angel. That person was right in front of her. But Bruce and Rachel…

“That is why, I believe, it would be best for you and I,” he stated, and Buffy wanted to run away, as far away she could go. She would rather stare back into hell then hear this man tell her that this had all been a mistake. “I think it would be best for both of us if you mo-.”

“Master Wayne!” Alfred’s voice cut through the serenity of the moment.

“What is it, Alfred?” 

“Sir, there is quite a bit of trouble at the Gotham City Bank according to the news.” He paused. “I believe the police and the armed gunmen inside are at a standstill.”

“I have to go.” He jumped off the table and disappeared before Buffy could utter a word.

“Hey! Wait a minute.” She dashed after him. “What about me?”

“Ask Alfred to take you back to the museum.”

Buffy, making her anger face at him, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her anymore. And while still mad at him, she did put it on pause just long to watch him strip down and put on the Bat armor. It was amazing to watch, and not just physically (though she had to admit to the fact that those scratches on his shoulder blades that were due to her fingernails made her proud), but it was also the personality change. It was happening right before her eyes. The more of the armor that he put on, the more Bruce Wayne disappeared, and the Bat appeared, taking over his thoughts, movements, and emotions.

Once he was fully Batman, Buffy let her anger return. She wanted to say something biting, or just anything to let him know she was upset, but she didn’t think it would do any good.

“Once there, I’ll change and go out on patrol,” she stated as he walked (stalked?) by her to the Bat tank. “Maybe I’ll see you out there.”

A few steps past her, he stopped for a moment and then moved back towards her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, feigning disinterest, hoping her fuming was noticeable. His rubber encased hand cupped her cheek and made her look at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, in his scare-the-bad-guys voice. “We’ll talk later.”

And with that he was gone, in the tank, and through the waterfall, out into the night.

Buffy really wanted to punch something.


	12. Odding the Evens

Chapter Eleven: Odding the Evens. 

 

Buffy took the elevator back up, stomped up the staircase, tried her hardest not to force the bookshelf open and to let it open on its own, and then went in search of Alfred. She found him just down the hall, dusting some items in another room. There were so many rooms and a lot of them looked like what to her would be a living room or sitting room. She didn’t know what to call them all.

“AH! Miss Summers. Is he gone already?” She nodded. Now that she had worked a little of her anger off, another emotion was taking over – the weepy one. She fought it hard and was winning. “Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Alfred. I need to get back to the museum. Bruce said you would take me.”

“Of course,” he said, setting the duster in his hand down. “I will bring the car around.”

Buffy surprisingly found Bruce’s room without too much trouble. Her dress and shoes were harder to find. She didn’t find her torn underwear and she thought maybe it might still be in the Lamborghini, but she was not about to ask Alfred if it was okay if she went and checked. She dressed and then laid the robe on the bed, not knowing what else to do. She took a moment to look around the room, taking it all in. The unmade bed, where he and her had slept together, where they had made love twice more before going to sleep. Looking at it, it seemed like it had been days ago, not hours. It made her heart ache a little.

Sighing, she left the room quickly and went out front to where Alfred waited in the car. She opened the front passenger side door and got in, closing the door and putting her seatbelt on. When she looked over at Alfred he was looking at her with an unreadable look on his face.  
“  
Is something wrong?” She asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “I am just not used to someone sitting next me.”

“Oh!” She glanced into the back seat, and then looked at him once more. “I would really rather sit up here.”

“Very good, Miss Summers.” Alfred gave her a genuine smile, and started the engine.

“And please, call me Buffy.”

“Alright, Buffy,” he said, smiling once again.

Once off the property and on the road to Gotham City, she could not help but ask him the question that she wanted an answer to, or at least one of them.

“Bruce said you were the one who told him my real name. How did you know?”  
Alfred stared ahead, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he sighed. “I lied to him. I told him that a friend of mine had called and said that you were in town. He told me that you were the Slayer and you came here to take care of something, and that we should be careful. Then I explained to him what a Slayer was, as was told to me by my friend.”

“And what is the truth that you didn’t tell him?”

Alfred sighed again. “That my friend’s name is Rupert Giles. That I have known him since he was a boy. That my parents were watchers, so that is how I knew you were the Slayer. I also did not tell him that I was the one who had called Rupert, not the other way around.”

“Wait! Your parents were Watchers?” She asked in disbelief.

“Oh yes, and my grandfathers, no both sides of my family, and on back for several generations. I even went through the Watcher training, for a short time.” His glance shifted back and forth between the road and her. “But, they had other plans for me.”

“What plans?”

He chuckled. “To keep my eyes open for a legacy. Truth is, I am still not sure what they meant by that, but I realized that it was not for me, and I took the appointment of butler to the Wayne family. Never looked back.”

Buffy sat back in her seat, absorbing all that he had told her. She still had a feeling he was leaving something out. She didn’t press him on it any farther.

The rest of the ride to the museum was a quick and silent one. When the Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb outside of the building, Buffy removed her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle.

“Miss Sum- Buffy,” Alfred said, halting her. “I know it is not my place to say anything, but you have to be patient with him. I know that the both of you have lost so much in your young lives, much too young lives and a great deal to much to have lost, but unlike you, he only had an old butler to see him through it.” He sighed, shaking his head. “What I am trying to say is that the only reason I was allowed into his life was because he knew someday he would have to stop running and return home, and I was all that was going to be there when he did.” He paused again, looking out the window on his side for a few moments. “He loves you. I can see it in his face, his eyes, in the way he looks at you.” He turned back to her. “No matter what happens, do not doubt that for one second.”

Buffy nodded. She opened the door, but before she got out, he leaned over and kissed him on the check. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“You are most welcome.”

With that, she got out and went to the museum door, knocking on it to let the night guard know to come and let her in. She waved at the Englishman as he pulled away and he waved back, and then the door was unlocked, and she was allowed inside.

The guard, who let her in, Mitchell, was an older gentleman with thinning white hair, and a sweet man. He locked the door up behind her and she took the elevator to the top floor where the room was she had been staying in. She showered quickly, and changed into her black leather pants, black tank top, and threw an equally black hoodie over it. Black boots, a stake in her back pocket and back to the elevator she went.

She took a second to go down to archives to check her hiding place for the dagger. She did not need to touch it or go near it to know that it was undisturbed. Then out the back door and out to patrol. 

Her Slayer senses were tingling almost immediately. She slowed her pace, wondering if this meant that they were going to try and get into the museum for another attempt at stealing the dagger.

She had been so right. She watched them come around the corner and to the door she had exited not five minutes before. There were six of them: Four vamps and two humans. Buffy knew she had to get to them before they got inside: Mitchell was the only one on guard duty tonight. 

Hesitation was bad, so she took off for the group at full speed. One of the vampires just happened to turn and see her, managing to call out a warning just before her fist connected with its face. The other three vamps were ahead of him, and they turned to face the threat upon them. The humans just froze.

Another punch to fang face and he went down. By this time vamps two, three, and four were upon her. Not fair odds, but their kind never played fair. She was the Slayer – uneven odds were her specialty.

Just maybe not tonight.

The nearest one, vamp number four, got a kick to the knee, but number three was quicker than she had anticipated and played dirty: he grabbed her by the hair on the back of her head and then proceeded to slam her face into the wall. The pain was horrible, but she had managed to turn her head just enough so her left cheek took the brunt of it and not her nose, which definitely would have broken it. Not a good look to have in any situation, in Buffy’s opinion.

Number three pulled her head back again, preparing to slam her into the wall again. Buffy reached back with both hands, one on the vamps wrist while the other one got purchase on the back of her head, and, ignoring the pain, pulled with each. It took some effort due to the odd angle, but she managed to free herself from the vamp, losing some hair in the process. 

Just as she was about to turn and give number three a good pounding for messing with her ‘do, vamp number one proved he was not out of the fight. Buffy felt a stabbing pain in her stomach and a twist. She screamed, instinctively reaching down to the area in pain, only to find the hilt of a knife. Now vamp number two was joining the fray. He kicked her in the back of her knee, causing her to fall forward; when she did vamp number four kicked her in the ribs, knocking the breath out of her. 

“Well, well, well. Aren’t we the lucky ones?” One of the vamps hissed. “Imagine us, just here to break into the museum, and we end up killing the Slayer.”

“Extra points.” Another snickered.

“Yeah. Fargre’an will be very pleased.” Still another.

“Shut up, you fool,” snapped someone else. As Buffy lay on the ground, the pain from the knife in her gut excruciating, she believed this was one of the humans talking.

“Why? She isn’t going to live long enough to tell anyone. What does it matter anyway?” 

“Just kill her al-“ The word was cut off, replaced with a groan.

“Oh no!” A voice filled with panic. “It’s him!”

“Who cares? We took down the Slayer. What is a human dressed up as a flying rodent got to be afraid of?” 

She was kicked again, this time in her back. She rolled over with the blow, now facing up instead of facing the ground. She had to pull the knife out. She had to get to her feet. She had to help him.

She looked up just in enough time to see vamp number three turn to dust, something sharp flying through his neck, decapitating him, and embedding into the wall. It was shaped like a bat. Focusing on it, the image blurring from the tears in her eyes, she pulled the dagger free, letting out another scream. She tossed it aside, rolled over, and tried to get up onto her knees. One step at a time, but she had to take those steps fast, faster than her battered body was willing to go.

Though she hated the fact that he was doing her job, doing it because she had screwed up, she was glad that the attention was off of her. It was a struggle but she got to her feet. Looking around, her right hand warm and sticky from her own blood, which was pouring out of the wound, she saw that there were only two vamps left, and the two humans were tied up, leaning against the back door to the museum. The remaining undead were several feet from her, nearly in the same spot that she had been standing in when she had first spotted them, and they were not alone.

She wondered how much protection the armor that he wore was protecting Batman from the vampire attacks. Pulling the stake out of her pocket with her free hand, forcing herself to forget the pain that she was feeling, she made her way up behind them. Batman took a serious blow from one of the vampires, which dropped him down to one knee, but he was back up in a flash. The blades on his wrist guards were sharp and he drove them into the face of the vampire that had hit him. Just as the other vamp was about to attack, Buffy drove the pointed end of the stake through his back, puncturing the heart, turning it to dust. While it was still screaming in denial, she spun, driving the stake into the last vamps heart. Done and done.  
“Buffy.” Gravelly voice. He was standing right next to her, but he sounded so far away. 

“I’m fine,” she said. But she wasn’t and she knew it. “I just need to –” Her world turned dark, and she felt herself falling.


	13. Healing

“She is healing up fine. Better than fine, actually,” Lucius Fox stated. He checked the wound, shaking his head in astonishment at the healing abilities the young woman had. “She was lucky, though: the knife didn’t hit anything vital.”

He looked over at Bruce Wayne. It had been his frantic call, waking Lucius up at three o’clock in the morning that had brought him out here to Wayne Manor. All he had known was that someone was badly injured, and he had guessed that it had to have been the young woman that Mr. Wayne had spoken to him about a few weeks ago. 

After he had tended to her wound, which had already been closing up by the time he had gotten there, Alfred had explained to him the situation, including who and what the young woman was. During the time, and all the time since, Bruce had not left her side. He had sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, his chin resting on his clasped hands, refusing to give up his vigil for a second. When Lucius had given him the word that she would be just fine, only then had Bruce left the chair, only to crawl into the bed beside her. He had eventually fallen asleep.

Seventeen hours later, the wound was practically healed, but she had lost a lot of blood and had several other injuries besides: two busted ribs, a dislocated knee cap, and a severe bump on her forehead and lacerations on her left cheek. All were miraculously healing well beyond anything he had ever seen.

“Too bad we can’t bottle that,” he whispered to himself. Bruce Wayne was now awake, sitting on the bed, his darting back between the girl and Fox. “I imagine once she wakes up, which should be soon, she will be back on her feet by the end of the day.”

“Thank you, Lucius,” Bruce said, standing and walking around the bed. He shook the older man’s hand. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all, Mr. Wayne.” Lucius patted him on the shoulder. “As soon as she able, I think it is time you bring her to Wayne Tower. I am sure she would love the R&D department.”

Bruce smiled, nodding, and then returned to his post by her side on the bed. Mr. Fox put his hat on his head and stepped out into the hall. 

“There comes a point in your life when you think that you are old enough to have seen it all, and then you get proven wrong,” he commented to Alfred, offering a thin smile.

“Isn’t that the bloody truth,” Alfred returned as he escorted Lucius to the door.

*****

Bruce was still tired, but he couldn’t sleep for long. Not only because he wanted to be awake when Buffy regained consciousness, but because the injuries he had received fighting the vampires still hurt like hell. His armor had taken the brunt of the hits off of him, but still the damn things had been really strong. 

He had nevertheless managed to pick Buffy up and carry her to the Tumbler. Once inside, he had called Lucius and then Alfred. Back in the Batcave, he hadn’t even bothered to remove his armor: he had just taken Buffy up to the house to his bedroom. Lucius had arrived only moments later. Bruce had refused any treatment until Buffy had been attended to, and by then the adrenaline had worn off, and he had had trouble breathing. Alfred had helped him get the suit off, and Mr. Fox had wrapped up his ribs after deducting they were cracked, not broken. 

He had not left her side for a single second since.

His mind drifted back to the night before when she had collapsed at his feet, blood soaking her clothing and running down onto the pavement. Alfred had thought that he had been stabbed also; there had been so much of her blood on his bat suit when he had brought her into the mansion. The bleeding had stopped on the way, but he was sure that there was plenty in the Tumbler also. Alfred had said he would take care of it. 

He ran his knuckles over her cheek, praying that she would wake up soon. He wanted to look into her eyes. He wanted to hear her voice when she told him that she was alright. He wanted to hold her and never let her go. 

He not only wanted all of this. He needed it.

He knew she had been angry with him when he had left, and he didn’t blame her. He had gone from telling her he loved her, to practically kicking her out of his home, a home he had told her that was hers now as much as it was his. 

There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that what he had said was true – that he did love her – and he would go to any lengths to prove that to her, but a part of him was still afraid of what could happen, and last night had only brought those doubts more to light. 

What she and he did, fighting crime and evil, was dangerous. There was no fooling around about that. And at any moment, something could happen, one little misstep, and one of them could lose that fight. 

Was it better to let go and face all of this alone, or hold on no matter what?

He chose to hold on. 

He prayed she would, also.

It was another hour, right after he had finished the lunch Alfred had brought him and, in a nice, civil tone, had pretty much threatened him to eat, when Buffy began to stir. He sat up from his place leaning against the headboard, and gazed down at her.

She opened her eyes, looking around in confusion before her eyes settled on him. She then smiled at him, and yawned.

“Hey, lunchable you,” she said, reaching her arms up over her head to stretch. She then sat up and kissed him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moaned into the kiss. She began to pull him down with her, but when he broke the kiss and gasped in pain, she released him and sat up.

“Oh! Are you alright? I’m sorry.” She lifted his shirt up and saw the bandages around his midsection. “Who did this to you?”

“You don’t remember?” He asked in bewilderment. Still grimacing, he pulled the sheet from her body and pointed at the bandage on her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed. And then it all came back to her. “How long have I been out?”

“Nearly twenty-four hours.”

She shook her head. “I messed up bad. I rushed in. I went at them wrong.” She sighed, looking up into his eyes. Putting her hands on his face, she kissed him again, very gently. “I’m sorry. Your being hurt is my fault. I should have been more careful.”

Instead of saying anything, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, ribs be damned. He lay back on the bed, bringing her with him. She laid her head on his shoulder, sliding her leg over his, her foot rubbing against his calf. Bruce closed his eyes, the urge to sleep coming over him with a force he could not fight any longer.

“That’s right,” Buffy whispered to him, her voice soothing. “Go to sleep, baby.” And he did. 

*****

Buffy found the robe that she had worn the last time she was here folded up on a chair, so she threw it on, tying it tightly in the front. She pulled the covers up over Bruce, kissing his softly on his right eye, and then tiptoed out of the room.

She found Alfred in the kitchen. He looked both surprised and relieved to see her. “Buffy,” he said with a smile.

“Alfred,” she returned, smile and all. “Bruce is asleep.”

“About bloody time,” the butler swore, shaking his head. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Buffy admitted, her stomach rumbling to prove her point. “Sustenance good.”

Alfred made her a nice, big lunch which she inhaled like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. When she finished, she decided it was time she checked in with Willow. It had been a few days since they had last talked.

“Oh my God, Buffy, are you sure your ok?” Her friend asked after Buffy told her all that had happened.

“Peachy-keeny. All healed up and ready to continue fighting the good fight.” She had to remind herself not to spill the beans about Bruce being Batman. “Thanks to Batman coming to pull my pan out of the bacon.”

“Wow! That must have been exciting?”

“Well, I was injured and then I was unconscious so I don’t remember much of the rescue, but he must have left me on Bruce’s doorstep. You know the ol’ ring the bell and run kinda thing.”

“Good thing he didn’t take you to a hospital. That would have been awkward.” Willow giggled. “So, how is Mr. Wayne?”

“Salty goodness wrapped up in sugar baby sweetness with a sizeable portion of chocolate drizzle, complimented by a side order of sprinkles.”

“That good, huh?” Willow laughed. “So, is this Dateville?”

“Oh no. We are way past Dateville. We waved to it as we sped past it on our way to Twosome Burg.” Buffy pulled her feet up onto the couch, folding them under her as she stared at the window at the green rolling hills there. “I thought for a second he might leave me at the rest stop, but he waited on me.”

“That’s great, Buffy. I am so happy for you,” Willow’s voice was all agreeable with her words. “Hey, hating to change the subject, but I found out something about the dagger.”

“Spill,” Buffy urged. 

“I found a reference to a Dagger of Hell’s Wrath. The picture is very old and hand drawn, but the markings match the picture you sent me. It says in the very little text there is about it that the dagger was used in concurrence with a heart of a warrior to banish into obscurity that which manifested with vengeance.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Buffy stated, running her free hand through her hair. 

“I know, but that is all it says. And I haven’t been able to find any other references to this dagger. Giles is coming up with the big empty, too. It’s so strange.”

“Yeah, well, thanks, Will, for everything.”

“No problem. Take care of yourself.”

“I will and hey! Do you think you could send some of that witchy stuff you make? You know the stuff that helps a person heal faster?”

“Sure.” Buffy gave her Bruce’s address. “I will send it with great speed.”

“Thanks.” They said their good-byes and hung up.

Buffy tossed her phone onto the table and then settled back onto the couch. When Bruce came down stairs an hour later, she was still there, her eyes focused on the outside.

“What’s so interesting?” He took a seat beside her, put his arm around her, and pulled her close. 

“I was just thinking.” 

“About?” He urged. She shrugged. “Was it about us?” A tentative nod. “Was it good or bad?”

She sat up, twisting around so she could face him. “Good to me.”

“But you don’t think it will be good to me?” 

“I don’t know.”

He kissed her, slow, and tender. “I love you. That fact can’t be anymore true.”

“I know and I love you,” She said, then shook her head. “No, I mean, I am in love with you. “So much so that it is to the point of no return, but after everything that has happened, and everything that you now know, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided that you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“Buffy, there is nothing I want more than you in my life,” he said, speaking every word slowly and with emphasis. “I know in the cave yesterday that I was cold to you, and I’m so sorry for that. It’s just –“

“Bat mode,” she finished for him. 

“Yes, Bat mode.” He chuckled. “Is it a sign I need therapy when I begin to refer to Batman in the third person?”

“Oh, sweetie, it was a sign you needed therapy the first time you put on the pointed ears.” They both got a good laugh out of that. “But don’t feel bad. I do the same thing with the Slayer, and I don’t have a separate wardrobe for her. So which one of us needs the Industrial Sized Therapy more?”

“You,” Bruce joked earning him a poke on his thigh for it. “But it will make you feel better that I would probably go broke paying for my therapy bills.”

“I think in the department of questionable sanity,” Alfred began, coming into the room with a tray on which was two glasses of milk and some chocolate chips cookies, “I think both of you are on even footing.”

“You do realize I am almost 32 years old, don’t you?” Bruce asked, motioning to the tray.

“Sir, there are times when I just have to make a judgment call. I usually base it on action, so actuality.”

“I’m not complaining,” Buffy announced, grabbing a glass with one hand and a cookie with the other. 

“Well, you made her happy.”

“That was my goal, Sir.” Alfred walked away, leaving the room the way he came in.

“What about me?” Bruce yelled after him.

“Secondary, Sir,” was the response yelled back. Bruce harrumphed, a smile on his face. 

“You have changed my butler’s priorities,” he told Buffy. “I hope the museum pays you well. He isn’t cheap.”

Buffy held her cookie up to him. “I’ll give you a half eaten cookie for him.”

“They’re my cookies.”

“Not if I have taken a bite out of them, they aren’t.” Reasoning, even her reasoning, was golden and true. “It’s a rule: The more bites you take of a cookie, the more ownership you have of said cookie.”

“When you put it that way, it makes perfect sense.” He took a bite of the cookie. “I have good cookies,” he said around the baked goodness. 

“You have delicious cookies,” she corrected, popping the rest of it into her mouth.

“Is that innuendo?”

“If it is, it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.”

“You have a milk mustache.” Before she could wipe it off, he kissed her. It started out nice, but he deepened it, his hand coming up over her knee, opening the robe she wore as he traveled up. When his tongue probed, she opened for him. His hand slid over her hip. She tried to set the glass down, but missed the table. Good thing it was empty.

He continued to move. Up and up. Only stopping when he reached her breast, causing her to gasp into his mouth. 

He broke the kiss, getting up on his knees. He grabbed her left leg under the knee pulled it up and swung it over his head, bringing her foot to rest on the back of the couch. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it across the room, and then untied the robe she wore, pushing it open. He took her left leg under the knee again, and hooked it over his shoulder and began to kissing her inner thigh.

“What about your ribs?” She managed to ask. She really was concerned. Honest, she was. 

He just looked at her, his eyes deep and lust filled. His other hand gripped her other leg under the knee, using it to pull her forward, causing his lips to travel further down. His eyes never broke contact with hers. 

Her butt was off the blasted couch, her weight resting on her back and shoulders. She was trying to stay quiet: Alfred was in the house somewhere and could come walking back in anytime. Bruce didn’t seem to care, though, making her feel a little less fearful. A little. Not a lot.

Her cell chose that moment to ring. She ignored it. She ignored it right up until she heard a very nasal, beyond annoying, but familiar voice coming over it.

“Buffy! Pick up your bloody phone. You told me to call you, but only if it is very important. Well, it is. Come on, Slayer, you have to hear this. There is some badass demon in town, by the name of Fargre’an, and he just put a bounty on the Batman’s head.”


	14. Who's Protecting Who

Bruce sighed, but released her, sitting back on the couch. Buffy sat up and grabbed her phone. She really hated being interrupted, but this could not be ignored. They both knew that.

“Bhul,” Buffy said into the phone, hoping she had got him before he hung up. She pulled the robe closed, trying to tie it with one hand while holding her cell with the other. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Listen I was down in the slums, you know. I mean really down in the slums, if you catch my meaning, and these Ghaugrus were talking about how they had heard that there was a bounty on the Batman’s head. They said it was all hush-hush though.”

“Hush-hush?” Buffy stood and began to pace. This was bad. “Why?

“Seems this Fargre’an character wants to keep it ‘in city’. He doesn’t want any outside help. The bounty is just to get the ball rolling, you know, give him a leg up on the Bat’s whereabouts. Once he is spotted, this guy sends his hunters after him.”

“What kind of hunters?”

“I heard they were Molaxuil.”

Buffy froze in mid-stride. “Molaxuil? This guy has Molaxuil clan members working for him?”

“Yeah. Big, nasty things. But the word is that the Bat is not to be killed. Fargre’an wants him alive. Molaxuil’s aren’t known for bringing trophies back alive. But Fargre’an has put the word out that if anyone kills the Batman that he will personally hunt them down and take care of them. No one has a clue what kind of demon he is. No one has seen him, he’s got everyone scared.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bhul. Keep your ear to the ground and let me know if you learn anything else, alright?”

“Sure, Slayer, but I got to be careful, too, you know. I got pups to feed.”

“I understand. Thanks again.” She clicked her phone off. “Bruce, this is beyond bad. This is stellar bad.”

*****  
“So this demon has a bounty on my head.” Bruce was casually sitting on the couch, his head back, and his eyes on the ceiling. He wasn’t taking this as seriously as Buffy thought he should have been.

“Bruce! It isn’t that simple,” she snapped at him, stomping her foot for emphasis. “Whoever or whatever this Fargre’an is, he is bad. Badder than bad. He has all the other bads afraid of him.” She took a deep breath. “Listen, demons don’t pay much attention to humans.”

“They pay attention to you,” He pointed out.

“Yes, but I am the Slayer. They don’t pay attention to other humans because they don’t think we are worth it. Just fodder or food or whatever, but now you have their attention. He sees you as a threat, because it isn’t just the human criminals that fear you. He sees you as an adversary. He wants you captured so he can make a point. He wants to kill you himself to make that point.”

“I’ve killed vampires. I have never fought a demon. Why would they fear me?”

“Vampires are the bottom feeders in the demon world, so they don’t matter much. And you don’t know that you have never fought a demon before. Some of them can pass as human, shift themselves, blend in. You more than likely have, and the fact that you did and survived, makes you worthy of notice.” She paced a little more and then grabbed her phone again. “I need to call Willow. She needs to come here.”

“Why?” He sat up, putting his elbows on his knees.

“Willow is a witch. I very powerful witch. Your armor isn’t going to protect you from demons very well. She can help with.” She searched and found the number, but just before she could hit the button to dial it, Bruce’s hand closed over hers, stopping her. 

“Wait a minute. If you have her come here, then we are going to have to tell her that I am Batman,” he pointed out.

“I know, but we can trust her. I trust her and have for as long as I have known her.” Buffy assured him.

“And this is necessary, this added protection she can provide?” Buffy nodded. He paused for a moment, looking into her eyes, searching and thinking. Finally he removed his hand from hers. “Okay. If you trust her so much, then I will too.”

She stood up on her tippy toes and kissed him, then pressed the button. In three rings, Willow answered.

“Hey, Buffy. Twice in one day.”

“Listen, Will, I need another favor,” Buffy stated, deciding to skip the small talk and get right to business. “I need you to come to Gotham as in pronto.”

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?”

“I can’t explain over the phone, Will, but trust me when I say that we need your area of expertise in a big way right now.”

“We?” Willow quizzed.

“Yeah, and that will have to be explained once you arrive, too. Book a flight, hightail it up here, and when you arrive, I will pick you up at the airport. Once we get back to Wayne Manor, then I will spill the beans.”

“Wayne Manor? Cool. I’ll get Kennedy and Xander and we will be there as quick as we can.”

Buffy began to tell her not to bring Kennedy and Xander, but another Slayer, even a Potential one, could come in handy, and Xander was good for…well, being Xander. She thanked her friend and hung up.

Bruce put his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her jaw. The remnant of passion, before they had been interrupted, was starting to flare to life in full force. 

“I need to talk to Lucius,” he said, releasing her. “So, I have to go to Wayne Tower.”

Flare dwindling again. She was getting tired of this. “I’ll be back before sundown and then we can go out together.”

“Ok,” she said, thinking that was a very good idea. Not only were there demons after him now, but he was still injured. He would need her to watch his back. He stopped at the door, turning back to her, and smiling, before leaving the room. “And tell Mr. Fox ‘thank you’ for me.” She yelled after him. His promise that he would was distant, but at least he had heard her. Buffy sighed and threw herself back down on the couch.

“Do you need anything, Buffy,” Alfred asked, picking up the tray he had left earlier. Buffy must of dozed off. She had not heard him come in.

“No, but I think we need to think about protecting the mansion.” She said, sitting up. 

“Protecting it? Why?” She told him everything that she had learned. He paled slightly, setting the tray down once again, and taking a seat next to her. “How?” Was all he asked. 

“Until Willow gets here, the only thing we can do is salt the place. Vampires can only get in if you give them permission. Demons don’t need to ask. Salt is pure. Demons are not, so if you put salt down in an unbroken line on a window seal or above door frame, they can’t cross it.”

“Not to sound as if I am not taking this seriously, but do you know how long that is going to take with a place this size?”

“Yep. So we better get started.”

*****

Bruce found Lucius exactly where he thought he would; at his computer terminal on the R&D floor. The older man looked up and removed his glasses at his approach.

“Feeling better?” 

“Some,” Bruce answered.

“And the young woman?” Lucius asked.

Bruce nodded. “She sends her appreciation for what you did.”

“Oh, she would have healed fine on her own without my help.” Lucius leaned back in his chair. 

“Even so…” Bruce let the end of the sentence hang in the air, and then turned to other matters. “Have you gotten a chance to work on what I asked for?”

Lucius nodded. “I have. I found a material that is suitable for what you asked for. It should work nicely, but I still need to make a few adjustments to it.”

“Will those adjustments be done by tonight?” Bruce asked, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. Lucius nodded. “Her friend, the witch, is coming. Buffy said her magic can help protect me.”

“Protect you from what?”

“Demon has put a bounty on the Batman’s head. I have to be more careful.”

“Let’s hope her friend can really do so,” Lucius stated, putting his glasses back on and turning back to his computer. “I have been studying up on a few things, and I honestly don’t believe   
I can improve the suit in any more ways to make it stand up to attacks from…supernatural forces.” 

“I also need something else. About an eighth of a ton of purified silver, two hundred pounds of rock salt, and about one hundred gallons of spring water from a pure source in the Himalayas.”

“That all?” Lucius chuckled. “I will see what I can do?” He shook his head. “Never thought that would be part of my job description.”

“Me neither,” Bruce stated, turning to the elevator. “For either one of us.”

*****

Alfred had a bag of salt in dry storage. Buffy could not possibly imagine why someone would need a twenty pound bag of salt, in fact she had never even seen a bag of salt this big, but she was glad that he had it.

It was truly nothing short of a nightmare. There were so many damned windows in the house that by the time Bruce returned, they weren’t even a third of the way done. Buffy explained to him what they were doing, and he offered to help since they still had a few hours before the sun went down.

Even with his help, they weren’t even half way by the time the sun went down. Alfred said he would keep working on it, so Buffy followed Bruce down to the cave and waited (and watched) while he changed into his armor.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, and then smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. 

“What?” Bruce asked. He had everything on but the cowl. “What’s wrong?”

“Giles sent my weapons. They are on a crate at the docks.” She folded her arms over her chest. “My good weapons, things that wouldn’t make it through customs: crossbows, axes, swords – you know those sorts of things.”

“We can go there and get them. We also need to retrieve the dagger, put it somewhere more safe, and there is something else that we need to go take care of also.” He was being up in the cryptic about the last ‘something’, but she wasn’t too worried about it: she would find out what it was all about in due time.

Retrieving her weapons from the docks proved much easier than she believed. It just so happened that the docks were part of Wayne Enterprises. Giles had emailed her all the info and Batman had no problem finding it and she had no problem opening. She only took what she needed, and then resealed it.

Next was the museum, which was also a fairly easy job. She went in the back door, the same back door where just the other night the vampires had almost taken her down. It was easy to get in, go down to the basement, find the dagger, and get out without being seen.

Their last stop off was a little more tricky and not what she had expected. It was at Wayne Tower.

He drove the Tumbler (that was what it was called!) down an alleyway that ended in a brick wall, only once they approached the wall lifted up allowing the vehicle into a short tunnel. When he stopped the Tumbler, the floor began to rise up and soon came to a stop a few floors up. Buffy looked out the window to find Mr. Fox there waiting for them.

She got out of the Tumbler and greeted him. “Thank you again,” she stated, shaking his hand.

“Think nothing of it.” He smiled. He turned his attention to the Batman who came up at Buffy’s left side. “This shouldn’t take but a moment.” He then turned and disappeared around some equipment.

“What is going on?” Buffy asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Mr. Fox has something for you,” Batman answered, nodding toward the man as he returned. He was pushing in front of him what looked like a mannequin covered with a sheet. 

“I like surprises. What is it?” She asked as Lucius stopped in front of her.

“Well, it only made sense that if you have been seen with Mr. Wayne and will be seen with him regularly, that the chance of you being seen with Batman might cause problems. Raise suspicions, if you will.” With that, he pulled the sheet of the mannequin. 

And Buffy’s jaw dropped to the floor. Yep, it was definitely a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: I don't have a beta for this story so if there are any mistakes, they are all on me, and I apologize for them.


	15. New Stuff and Old Friends

“It is made with a material that I developed years ago, but was never put to use,” Mr. Fox explained. “I call it Shear Mail. Consider it a suit like chainmail only the links are a hundred times smaller and much lighter. It will stop pretty much what his suit does, that is knives and everything but a direct bullet, and it is flexible for movement such as your require.”

Buffy stared at it in wonder. It was a black body suit, strands of silver interlaced through it, making her think of a spider’s web. She reached out, touching it with her fingers, and finding it not only strong, but soft like silk to the touch. There was even a matching mask, one that only covered her eyes. 

“The silver strands are actually there for current. This suit is water proof, so you don’t need to worry about getting electrocuted in the rain. But the suit can store electrical energy, which you can propel outwards via the gloves.” He handed them to her. They were made of the same material as the rest of the suit. “And the boots are padded so you don’t fry yourself.” He placed those in her hands as well.

“Cool!” She exclaimed, almost jumping up and down in her excitement. “Oh! Where can I put it on?”

“Right over there is fine.” Lucius pointed back the way he had come, behind the equipment. He took the suit off of the mannequin and handed it to her. She took off like with Slayer speed and disappeared from sight. “I think she likes it.”

Batman just nodded, hiding his amusement.  


Buffy had to admit it. She couldn’t help it.

She looked damn hot in this getup. 

It not only fit her snuggly and perfectly, but it held up what it was supposed to hold up with concrete efficiency no matter how high or how much she jumped up and down. 

“Wow! All these years of slayin’ this and slayin’ that have really paid off in the tone department.” She slipped on the boots and the gloves and the mask, tying her hair back and up with a black band she always wore on her wrist just in case. 

Giddy with excitement, she dashed around the equipment, actually squealing in delight, and damn near tackled poor Mr. Fox to the ground.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She said, kissing his cheek. “It’s great!”

“You’re welcome,” the man laughed, pleased that she liked it, but in fear that her gratitude would endanger his personal health. “So?” She said, releasing Lucius, and turning toward Batman, spreading her arms out at her side and turning around in a circle.

“Nice,” he commented. “Let’s go.”

Buffy huffed as he turned and returned to the Tumbler. “Nice?” She muttered, waving at Lucius, who was chuckling, as she followed the Bat to the vehicle. “All I get is ‘nice’?”  


 

To say the night was uneventful was an understatement. There were a few vampires to take of that were prowling around in the North City Park. And Buffy detected a presence hanging around an old abandoned warehouse, but it turned out to be a Glujitz demon, totally harmless to humans. He reconfirmed what she had learned from Bhul earlier, about the bounty on Batman’s head. He talked to Buffy for about a half hour about the demons in the area, and where he believed them to be hiding, but he knew nothing more or anything new.

While she was listening to the Glujitz, whose name was Druythuilrgil, or something like that, Batman caught a couple of guys trying to break into a pawn shop six blocks over. He allowed them to trip the alarm just to get the cops to the area, and then left the two would-be burglars tied to a street lamp.

The sun was just cresting the horizon when the Tumbler landed in the cave. Buffy was glad she had thought to pick up a few items of clothing to wear from her room in the museum after finding the dagger, or she wouldn’t have anything to wear now considering she had left the clothes she had been wearing at Wayne Tower after putting on her new…outfit. Uniform? What did she call it?

Bruce told her that he would put the dagger in the safe upstairs. She wondered if it was a good idea to keep it here at the mansion, but he told her not to worry. 

She changed over by his work table, unsure of what to do with her suit (?). “Do I just hang it up somewhere, or what?” She asked as he came around to where she was. As he walked toward her she couldn’t help but stare. While he looked amazing in the Bat armor, and he looked absolutely debonair in his custom Italian suits, he looked completely gorgeous in jeans. She had honestly thought he hadn’t owned a single pair of jeans since she had not seen any in his closet the other day. 

Her uniform, or whatever, folded up nicely and she sat it aside on the table with all the accessories that went with it. “I’ll make room for it with mine,” he told her, setting the dagger down on the table. He then proceeded to pick her up by her waist and sit her on the table. “You know, I meant to tell you how…stimulating you looked in your new attire, but, you know Lucius was standing right there and then the Bat isn’t known for his complimentary jargon, so…”

“Stimulating, huh?” She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Really? How stimulating exactly?”

“Extremely,” he told her, brushing her lips with his. “So much so that… Wait a minute.” He held up a finger, then pulled away from her and ran back through the cave. He was only gone for a few moments, and then he came running back, standing between her legs while she sat on the table, putting her arms back around his neck before wrapping his around her waist. “I made sure the elevator was locked. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I remember.” Buffy started giggling. “So much so that at times the armor was a tad bit uncomfortable.” That made her full out laugh. 

Then his mouth was on hers, and he was pulling her as close as physically possible. His slipped his hands under her shirt, and up, undoing the bra clasp, and then running his hands slowly up and down her back.

“I just put this stuff on,” she told him jokingly as they separated long enough to help the other pull their shirts off. The bats were making a whole lot of noise, and some were flying around in the main part of the cave. Just as long as they stayed out there and didn’t come in here, then everything would be fine. 

Her fingers traced the scars on his back as he pulled her up and laid her on the table, climbing up with her. His mouth left hers, trailing open mouth kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, and then down over her breasts. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, making fresh marks over the older ones from the other day. He pulled away, leaving only long enough to pull off her shorts and his jeans, and then he was back, pressing her down into the table, moving tools and the like over with a sweep of his arm. Some of them hit the stone floor making loud noises that seemed to make the bats even more vocal. They both ignored them.  
So close. She arched her back, feeling him just beginning to…

“Master Wayne.”

Alfred’s voice sliced through the cave, sounding as if he were on a bullhorn. They froze and then Bruce slammed his hand down on the table. “Damn it!” He swore, climbing off the table, throwing his jeans on and then going into the main cave where the computer was. Buffy sighed, and then kicked at nothing in frustration. Come on, she wanted to scream.

“Yes, Alfred,” Bruce answered, managing to keep the irritation out of his voice and sound perfectly normal. 

“I just wanted to tell you that Buffy’s friends will be here shortly. Their plane touches down at the Gotham Airport in forty-five minutes.”

Forty-five minutes! Buffy jumped off the table and put her clothes back on as quickly as she could. She heard Bruce tell Alfred to bring the Rolls around and they would be up in a moment. 

“There is some kind of conspiracy, isn’t there?” Bruce asked as he took his shirt from her.  
He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I have to go into the office. Go with Alfred to pick up your friends and I will put the dagger into the safe. I will be home by lunch.” He kissed her, deeply, and they both had to force themselves to pull away. 

Once upstairs, Buffy headed out to the car where Alfred was waiting. She got into the front seat with him, and they took off for the airport.

The plane was fifteen minutes late. Still a little (sexually) frustrated, she could not help but be happy (and forgiving) when she saw her friends exit the gate of their terminal. She waved at them frantically, running over, and embracing Willow and Xander and Kennedy each in turn. And then she and Will did their little happy dance, which was really just holding hands and jumping up and down. Then she led them over to where Alfred stood.

“Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, and Kennedy,” Buffy began, realizing that she had never heard her called anything but Kennedy, “This is Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred, these are my friends.”

“I’m Mr. Wayne’s butler,” Alfred said, shaking everyone’s hand in turn. “It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” said Willow with a big smile on her face.

 

“Come on, Kennedy,” Xander stated, motioning over to the right. “Let’s go rescue out luggage from the conveyer belt of maybe over there.”

“I’ll go get the car and meet you out front.” Alfred then went to do just that.

“So,” Willow began, her smile refusing to wane, “how is everything?”

“Great,” Buffy said, meaning it except for the oh-so-close-but-yet-so-far-away sex life she and Bruce had. “He had to go into the office this morning, but you guys will get to meet him at lunch.”

“Great.” Willow put her arm through Buffy’s and, with Kennedy and Xander (mostly Kennedy) bringing the luggage, they walked through the airport and outside to the awaiting car.

“Is that a Rolls Royce?” Kennedy asked. 

“Yep, sure is,” Buffy answered as Alfred popped the trunk. “You should see Bruce’s other car,” she told them, fitting all of the luggage into the trunk. “It’s a Lamborghini.”

“Get out!” Xander exclaimed. “Seriously? The guy has a Lamborghini?”

“Yes,” Buffy stated. How she so wanted to tell them about the other car. “He drives it very fast all through town.”

They climbed into the car, Buffy still taking the front seat, and pulled away from the curb and onto the mansion.


	16. Settling Down

“Holy Homes a Third World Country Could Live In!” Xander exclaimed when Buffy pointed to Wayne Manor.

“Does it have its own zip code?” Kennedy asked, leaning forward in her seat to see around Xander’s head.

Alfred laughed. “No, but it probably should.” 

Willow divided her sightseeing time between the city that was visible at a distance on her left and the manor on her right. Both were equally fascinating to her, but the manor was where they were going to be staying and it was impressive, to say the least.

It took only a few moments to get the luggage out of the car and into the house. Alfred had already told Buffy that she could put her friends in any of the rooms on the second floor, except for the master bedroom. Though the house had been destroyed, and rebuilt, this room was still considered to be Bruce’s parent’s room. Alfred had tried to get him to take it as his own, but Bruce had chosen to stay in the same room he had had as a child, and that had not changed after the manor had been rebuilt.

Buffy decided to put Willow and Kennedy in the room at the end of the hall from Bruce’s room, on the other side of the staircase. She put Xander at the other end of the hall opposite. 

“This house has been home to the Wayne Family for six generations,” Alfred explained as everyone pitched in on the luggage, and fell in line behind the butler as he went to the front door. “Master Bruce is the last of that line.”

Buffy glanced up and saw Willow looking at her strangely. When the Slayer cocked an eyebrow in question, Willow just shrugged and smiled. “Jet lag,” she answered as Buffy closed the trunk of the Rolls and they fell in line. “Just good ol’ jet lag from Brazil.”

Getting them settled in took no time at all, or wouldn’t have if the gazing around in wide-eyed wonder had been toned down a bit, but Buffy was patient, and soon Xander and his one suitcase were happy in his newly appointed room, and Willow and Kennedy with their four pieces (three of the four belonged to Willow) of luggage were tucked away also. Will had brought books and potions, ingredients and such because Buffy had neither seen or heard of an occult book store in Gotham like the Magic Box. She was sure there would be one in a city this size. She was just going to have to drive around and look.

While her friends unpacked, Buffy went to Bruce’s room and sat on the bed. As she sat there, staring at nothing, her phone rang. It was Bruce.

“I’m not going to make it back until around five or so,” he told her. “Lucius and I have some work to do.”

“Okay,” she said, not trying to hide her disappointment. Her friends were great and she was happy they were here, but being away from Bruce made her feel lonely no matter how many people were around, and she missed everything about him. 

 

“Why don’t you ask Alfred to gas up the Mercedes that is in the garage and you and your friends, go shopping.”

“Willow and I did love to window shop back in Sunnydale,” Buffy mused aloud, thinking back. “Xander not so much.”

He laughed. “Buffy, I mean shop as in go in, try stuff on, and then buy it. You can go to the place on Fifth.”

“Whoa! Way out of my price range there.”

“Not mine,” he stated. “I’ll call them and tell them you are coming and whatever you buy, I will take care of. No problem at all.”

“Bruce,” Buffy began, shaking her head even though she knew he could not see it. “You don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” he told her. “Please, take your friends, and go spend my money.”

She felt kind of strange being given permission to ‘spend his money’. “Are you sure?” Not sure herself.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I am. And get a few evening gowns. I have a few charity events and parties I have to go to over the next few weeks. I’d like to show you off.”

 

“What will they say in the papers if you show up with the same girl all the time?” She teased, wishing she could reach through the phone and kiss him. His voice was giving her chills.

“That I have finally found the one woman who makes me happy.” The sincerity and emotion in his answer made her want to cry. “That maybe I am ready to settle down.”

“Settle down? As in…” She felt light headed all of the sudden.

“As in settle down,” he told her. “Permanently.”

“Oh!” She didn’t know what else to say.

“We’ll talk about it later. I have to go, but do what I told you to. Go crazy. Fill up the trunk and the backseat.” He paused for a few seconds and then said, “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she answered back, meaning it with all of her heart, soul, mind, and body.

After they hung up, she sat staring at the phone in her hand. Had they just really had that conversation? Had she heard him correctly? Settle down! He wanted to settle down? With her? She had trouble grasping it. It just didn’t seem real.

There was a knock at the door. Opening it, Buffy found Willow on the other side. She let her in and closed the door behind them.

“So this is your room? Well, his room, that you share with him,” Willow said, her face splitting into a grin so wide, her head would break in half if she smiled anymore wider.

“Yeah,” Buffy chuckled, still not over the conversation she and Bruce had just had. She sat down on the bed again. 

“Hey. Is something wrong?” Willow sat on the chair next to the bed, concern deep on her face. “Buffy?”

“I think Bruce is going to ask me to marry him.”

Willow’s smile faded and her jaw went slack. Her eyes opened up to the size of saucers and her features paled. Buffy thought her best friend was about to pass out.

But then…

Willow let out a squeal that was earsplitting and then she began jumping up and down like a loon.

Xander came busting in, looking around for whatever was attacking his friend. Finding nothing, he stared at Willow in bewilderment until Kennedy came in, almost knocking him over, and ready to fight.

“Everybody calm down!” Buffy yelled, grabbing Willow and holding her still.

“What is going on up here?” Alfred asked as he came to the door.  
“Willow is just so happy to be here. She loves it. She is going to sit down now and be quiet.” Buffy said the last sentence slowly; making sure Willow got the memo. The witch sat down, smiling sheepishly. Alfred just shook his head and left.

“Sorry!” Willow called after him and then put her hands over her mouth, a fit of giggles threatening to take over her.

“What happened?” Xander asked.

“Tell them, Buffy,” Willow said, her voice muffled by her hands. 

“Listen, all he said was something about settling down. Permanently. Or rather that is what the papers would think if he started showing up with just one girl, the same girl, all the time. I blew it out of proportion. He said we would talk about it later.” All of this Buffy recited with one breath, and then took a few deep ones to make up for it.

“Wait a minute.” Xander snapped his fingers, looking a Buffy with his one eye very seriously. “Did he… Are you going to marry Bruce Wayne?”

“He hasn’t asked me! It was just a conversation. A strange one, but…”

Willow was nodding. “Yes! He said you two would talk about it later.”

“Ok. Enough! Buffy snapped. “He said I needed to go shopping. He wants me to go shopping and after a little resistance on my part I gave in. You guys are coming with me!”  


As they drove, Buffy was determined not to throw her friends out of the car. She was nervous enough driving the expensive car as is, without their shenanigans. 

Willow had taken to trying to figure out which sounded better: Buffy Anne Summers-Wayne or Buffy Anne Wayne. To her it was a tossup.

Xander wanted to know if he could be hired on as the gardener. He said he only needed one good eye to mow the lawn and trim hedges. 

Kennedy thought that Buffy should register while they were at the clothing store. Or at least look into it.

Buffy wanted to bang her head on the steering wheel. She told them to knock it off before they got into the store. She did not want someone to hear them talking and then it show up in the paper the next day. Buffy told them she wasn’t even sure she had heard him correctly. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe that part of the conversation had just been her imagination.

Willow told her she was being silly.

Xander told her she was in shock.

Kennedy told her she was in denial.

 

When they parked, and got out of the car, there was a woman standing in front of the doors. She wore the uniform of one employed there, and her smile widened and she looked absolutely gleeful as she approached Buffy, her hand outstretched.

“Are you Miss Summers?” She asked.

“Yes,” Buffy stated slowly, unsure of what was going on. “Why? What…”

“Mr. Wayne called. He asked that you and your friends be given our outmost courtesy and discretion.” She motioned to the store. “So, we have shut the store down to the public for the remainder of the day.”

“Whoa!” Xander exclaimed from behind Buffy. “He had the place close down just for you.”

“Actually,” the woman stated, opening the door and motioning them graciously inside. “He purchased it just after lunch.”  


Buffy tried to get Bruce on the phone, but he wasn’t picking up. She called his secretary and then Lucius’ but neither woman could get her in contact with Bruce. Apparently he was in a very important meeting and could not be disturbed. She left several messages on his phone, begging him to call her as soon as he was able. She could not believe he had done this. If this didn’t make it in the papers, she didn’t know what would.

Finally Willow came over and took her phone away from her, and dragged her over to the woman’s fashion. 

“This stuff is expensive,” Kennedy stated, looking but not touching. 

“I bet you get a real great discount now that your boy toy owns the store.” Xander. He got an elbow in the ribs from Willow and a withering look from Buffy that made him turn around and walk away very quickly.

There were several employees standing around, keeping their distance, but readily available if Buffy should need anything at all. It was kind of disturbing. So was how quiet the place was. 

It took Buffy awhile, but she eventually began shopping. Willow and Kennedy helped. Xander remained out of sight. 

It took two and a half hours. Buffy tried on so much stuff, much more than she ever had in her life. Shoes, gowns, shirts, everything! By the time they were done she had eight pairs of shoes, three pairs of boots, four evening dresses, ten outfits, a new watch, some earrings (to go with the evening gowns), three shawls (Willow had picked them out), a long coat (for cold nights), some things to sleep in (even though there were a few items she did not remember picking out that kind of made her blush when the clerk rang them up), plus things like a hair brush, panty hose, underwear, and three swim suits, one that was a one piece, and two that were two piece.

The price for all of it made her head swim, and she had to fight to keep from putting it all  
back. 

The employees carried all the bags out and put them in the trunk of the car. It all barely fit. Buffy was in such a daze, not believing what she had just done, that Xander decided he should drive back to the manor. Kennedy smacked him in the head and took the keys. She drove them home.

Alfred greeted them and helped unload and take everything up to Bruce’s room. It was nearly five in the afternoon, so everything was left on the floor of the room, and Buffy and her friends followed Alfred down to the dining area. Whatever he was cooking smelled delicious.

Just as Alfred was setting the food on the table, calling them all to eat, Bruce arrived. Buffy wanted to drag him into another room and let him have it about buying the store and about all the money she had spent and then kiss him like there was no tomorrow and then some.

Instead, she introduced him to her friends, and then they all sat down to eat. That was when the fun started.

The friendly kind of fun, and then the not so friendly fun reared its ugly head.


	17. Of Bats and the Magical Uses Thereof

Once Alfred had cleared the table and brought coffee for everyone, Bruce met Buffy’s eyes and nodded to her. She sighed and then turned to her friends.

“Bruce is Batman.” 

There were a few moments of stunned silence. During this time, Willow, Kennedy, and Xander spent a lot of time looking at each other, then at Buffy, then at Bruce, and then back to each other. Buffy watched them with a sort of morbid fascination as they absorbed her words. Bruce looked on with a look of amusement on his face.

“So, Bruce,” Xander pointed at him, “is Batman.”

“Yes,” Buffy answered. “There is a demon called Fargre’an who has put a bounty out on the Batman’s head. That is why I called you, Will. I need you to not only help protect this mansion, just in case they find out the truth about Bruce, but also to physically protect him. The Bat’s armor is good stuff, but against demons…” She let that hang in the air.

“Yeah. Yeah! I can do that. The house will be no problem. A minor spell really. We can do an Evil Binding Spell and then a Safety Blessing Spell. Both are simple and will take no time at all.” She paused, thinking. “I can put wards on his armor to protect him from the demon attacks.”

“Demon attacks?” Bruce echoed, saying the first words he had since before dinner. 

“A lot of demons have a special ability. Fire demons breath fire. Certain demons can hypnotize, paralyze, put you to sleep,” Willow explained.

“There is even one type of demon that has mucus that blinds you,” Kennedy piped in.

“But the point is all of this can be neutralized by certain ruins or talismans. With those, we can make your armor practically…well…everything proof.” Willow nodded sagely. “What about the dagger?”

“I hid it,” Bruce stated. “It’s safe.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“I need to see it. To see if I can figure out what it is used for exactly,” Willow explained. “We can’t seem to find any text that states what it does.” 

“Whatever it is you know it can’t be good.” Kennedy shook her head. “It never is.”

“You said that the demon had put a bounty out on Batman’s head?” Willow asked all seriousness and deep thinking. Buffy nodded. “Pardon me for asking this,” she said directly to Bruce. He nodded, telling her it was alright. “But is the bounty for the Batman alive or dead?”

“Alive.” Buffy wondered where Willow’s thoughts would lead them. “He has specifically threatened that if anyone was to kill the Batman, he would hunt them down and make this regret it. Just observe and report. He apparently has a few Molaxuil hunters.”

“Molaxuil hunters?” Kennedy shook her head. “Whoa! They are a warrior clan. Hired muscle. They are hired to kill. Not capture.”

“Exactly,” Willow stated. It was obviously a Eureka! moment. “They are warriors. They honor strength. Batman is the protector of Gotham. He is this city’s champion. That is why he put the bounty out. He doesn’t just want to kill you himself, he wants to own the city, and the only way to do that is to defeat its defender.”

“So, what does this have to do with the dagger?” Bruce asked. Buffy had to admit, he was very cool, calm, and collected.

“Maybe nothing. Maybe whoever is trying to get the dagger and this Fargre’an character are two completely different things.” Willow shrugged.

“But the vamps we fought at the museum said something about Fargre’an. They were there to break into the museum.” Buffy reasoned, putting her cheek in her hand. 

“Or maybe they want the same thing, but for two completely different reasons,” Kennedy stated. “I mean, Fargre’an has not only vampires working for him, but Molaxuil demons, so he must be a very powerful demon himself. The other guy who wants the dagger, he’s human, right?” Nods. “Demons don’t usually work with humans.”

“The Riddler is definitely human, but his pal, Mort, wasn’t. He looked like a construct of some kind.” Buffy thought back. “Yeah, he was definitely a construct of some kind.”

They were so involved in their conversation, that no one realized the sun had gone down. When a strange, silvery light suddenly brightened the sky outside, everyone looked out the window.

The Bat signal.

“They fixed it!” Buffy stood from her seat.

“If you will excuse me.” He got up and began to leave.

“Wait! I have to do the spells,” Willow cried, jumping to her feet. “You have to let me…”

“I have to go.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Buffy stated, going after him. “Just work on the house. I’ll call if we need anything.”

Willow, Kennedy, and Xander all sat in silence, staring after Buffy and Bruce. Finally, Xander broke the silence.

“So, Bruce is Batman?”  


“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take a few moments and let Willow do one little spell,” Buffy mused as she and Bruce rode the elevator down to the Batcave. “Not a bad idea at all.” Next to her, Bruce appeared as if he weren’t listening at all. She sighed, folding her arms over her chest.

“It’ll be fine,” he told her, reaching over and pulling one of her hands free to hold it. “You don’t let me out of your sight, and everything will be fine.” He smiled at her, the elevator coming to stop. Buffy sighed again, and followed him into the cave.

Several moments later they were parked in an alley not too far from the police station. The bat signal was still illuminating the sky, but they just sat in the car. It was almost as if he didn’t want to get out. Buffy looked over at him, and though his face was hard to read due to the mask, the eyes told her that something was bothering him.

“What is it?” She asked in a whisper. Why she felt she needed to whisper while they were still in the Tumbler, she did not know, but she did it anyway.

“Something is not right,” he said to her, his eyes glancing over to the police station. 

“It wasn’t Gordon who had the floodlight fixed, was it?” Buffy watched him shake his head, and she suddenly got a bad feeling. A really bad one. “Listen. I have a bad feeling about this. You shouldn’t go in there.”

“I have to,” he answered, and triggered the mechanism that opened the top of the Tumbler and raised the seat. 

Buffy jumped out and ran around the front of the Tumbler, blocking his path to the Police Station. They both knew he could go around her, or over her, but she was determined not to let him go, even if she did have to chase him over the rooftops. She may not have a gas-powered magnetic grappling gun (and she wondered why she did not), but she could climb really fast. She was also stronger than him and faster, and they both knew that also.

“Just stop and listen to me for twenty seconds,” she hissed, glaring at him. He just stood there, his eyes focused on her, waiting. “I am the Slayer and I have a very bad feeling. Me plus bad feeling equals something that is very dangerous.” Suddenly, her spine began to tingle, and gooseflesh rose up on her arms. “NO!” She shouted, and with a full burst of Slayer speed grabbed him and threw him over the car.

The gunshot echoed in the alleyway. Buffy didn’t even feel it thanks to the suit she wore (she would have to get Bruce to buy something special for Mr. Fox). It did, however, force her back a step or two. 

Batman was back up and over to the side of the Tumbler she stood on in a flash. He gripped her shoulders and spun her around. He was checking to make sure she was okay, but she could see the anger in his eyes, feel it radiating off of him in waves. 

“Sorry I had to shoot your girlfriend,” said a voice out of the darkness. Buffy’s senses were going full scale crazy, and the way that Batman stiffened, his eyes turning hard, she realized he recognized the voice.

“I was wondering when you would show yourself again,” Batman said, his voice colder than she had ever heard it before.

“It is so nice to be wanted.” 

The figure that stepped out of the shadows gave Buffy pause. In fact, she wanted to run from him, and that made her mad because there wasn’t a lot of things these days that could make her want to run. He wore a green suit, and his hair was partial colored green. His face was covered in white make up, thick black around the eyes, and red on the lips which were exaggerated and wider than normal. She could see the scars in the corners of the mouth. IN his hand, he held a dagger which he was tapping against the side of his head. 

“Joker,” Batman growled. Buffy could feel the adrenaline rushing through his body, getting ready for the fight.

“No,” she whispered, looking at the strange clown guy. “He was human. This is a demon in a human shell.”

“Slayer.” The word slid out of his mouth. “It is a pleasure and an honor to finally meet the girl that I have heard so much about. Dove and destroyer. The beauty of a rose. The prick of a thorn.” He produced the gun from inside his jacket and pointed it at her. Batman jumped in front of her. Buffy glared at his back, but said nothing. “Oh, don’t worry. I only shot her because I knew it wouldn’t hurt her.” He chuckled. At first it sounded normal, a little crazy but normal, but then it took on a strange echo sound, as if he was not laughing alone. Buffy understood at that instant that he wasn’t. 

“You’re possessed,” she stated, stepping around the side of the Bat. “Let me guess: Fargre’an.”

“Lovely and smart. I understand now why you have managed to outlive every other Slayer in history.” He clapped causing the knife and gun to bang together in his hands. “It is such a rare combination to find in a woman these days. Do you want to know how I got these scars?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Batman rejoined, his hands clenching at his sides. “What do you want?”

“Besides your head on a platter?” The Joker/Fargre’an shook his head. “The same thing I have wanted since Fargre’an made himself home inside my head: I want this city to burn.” He waved his hands around and then shrugged. “I want to watch it melt and hear the people scream. All I need is my dagger. Where is it?”

“You really think we would tell you that?” Buffy huffed. The feeling she had had to run was gone, replaced with the one that so wanted to bash this guy’s face in. 

“No, but Fargre’an will be able to read your mind,” the Joker suddenly stopped all movement, and his eyes began to glow orange. When he spoke next, it was not with the human voice, but with the demons. “Once I break open your skulls and eat your brains.”

Buffy’s senses tingled. Reaching over, she took one of the bat-shaped projectiles from Batman’s belt and tossed it at the Joker. It hit him right in the eye, lodging there. He screamed, a high-pitched sound of pain: apparently the demon was only visiting and had not taken over the body completely, otherwise he would have brushed the damage off and came at them.

“That… really hurts!” He dropped the gun, reaching up with his now free hand to touch the metal bat in his eye. He gasped, his hand shaking violently. “Get them!” He croaked out, turning and running down the alley and into the darkness.

Batman went to follow him, but Buffy pulled him back. She turned him around with her and there stood two of the ugliest things she had ever seen.

“Molaxuil hunters,” Buffy told him. She motioned behind them. “We need room to fight.”

She heard beeping and looked down to see a small sphere with silver rises on it in Batman’s hand. He tossed it at the Molaxuil hunters, and it exploded. They roared in anger.

“Come on,” he told her and they both darted down the alleyway, the same way the Joker had gone, but not in pursuit of him. 

“I am really wishing you had taken five minutes to let Will cast at least one protection spell on you,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. They had made it out to the street, the neighborhood around them seemed abandoned, and Buffy turned to see the hunters coming toward them, swords raised. She took her battle stance and waited.

Batman glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You can scold me later.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Buffy stated as the first Molaxuil came into striking range, hissing in anger. “And not in the good way either.”

And then, they were fighting for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the demons I mention I actually looked up on a site dedicated to the baddies of the Buffy Universe. Unfortunately I can't rememeber the name of the site I found them, but I give them credit for their work and thank them very much. A few demons I made up myself, but for the life of me I can't recall which ones....
> 
> Thanks to all reading. And I have a bookmark!!!! Thank you!!!


	18. Half to Full Truth in 30 seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, part of it at least, is very OC in concerns to Bruce Wayne/Batman. But they will pay for it later on, I promise.

Willow had walked the entire mansion twice, a long stick of magic-infusing incense in her hands, whispering the spells to protect the mansion from outside forces. Her magic flowed around her, reaching into every nook and cranny, mapping it in her brain, inculcating her spells into the furniture, rugs, stone, glass, and foundation.  
She knew that this was not the original mansion that had stood on this site for the last six generations of the Wayne family, but the ground it was built on retained the memories of the past, and she knew there were secrets here. Long buried, but not unknown.  
That was why when she was done with her casting, and was secure in the knowledge that all was well with her magic; she sought out Alfred, the Wayne family’s loyal butler.  
“What is he?” She asked the man as he gazed out the window in the library.  
Alfred shook his head as he turned from the window and motioned to a chair across from the one he himself was taking a seat in. Willow excepted it and patiently waited for him to tell her what she wanted to know.  
“Have you ever heard of a Varishi?” He asked her, staring down at the floor.  
“No,” Willow answered.  
“Of course not. It cannot be found in any Watcher’s Diary or Ancient Text, and that is because they don’t exist. Or at least, they are not supposed to be allowed to live.” Willow furrowed her brow, not understanding. Alfred continued: “A Varishi is a child that is produced at some point of a slayer line, always male.”  
“But I thought that being a slayer was random, like a roll of the dice,” Willow stated.  
Alfred shook his head again. “Some are, but there are a few true Slayer bloodlines. The daughters of the family are born Potentials, and even if they are never summoned to fight; the power they inherited is passed down. They always have daughters, never sons, because a male cannot become a Slayer. But every once in a while, a Varishi is born. Why, no one knows, but this male child inherits a certain amount of the Slayer power passed down through his mother’s ancestors.”  
“And Bruce is one?” Willow asked. Alfred nodded. “Does he know?”  
“No. His parents didn’t know and I seriously doubt that Martha Wayne’s parents knew about the power in her bloodline either. That knowledge had been lost some time ago.”  
“You said that they are not allowed to live very long.”  
“That is right. Varishi are very sensitive to evil. They are destroyed at birth so they cannot use their inherited power for evil use.”  
Willow could not believe what she was hearing. “How do you know all of this?”  
“I was trained as a Watcher,” Alfred admitted giving her a sad smile. “The Council specially trains certain Watchers to keep an eye on the families that could produce Varishi.”  
Willow gasped suddenly. “You were sent here to kill him. To kill Bruce when he was born.”  
“Yes,” Alfred admitted his voice and features full of guilt. “But I could not do it. I could not take the life of an innocent child. I told the Council that he had died during birth, and the young man they sent to confirm my story was also of like mind to me. He told the Council that the boy was dead and they believed him.”  
“Giles,” Willow stated, snapping her fingers. “The young man they sent was Giles.”  
“Yes, it was.”  
“And Bruce is not evil. He fights evil, so…” Willow shrugged, very happy. “That shows them. Or it would if the Council hadn’t been blown to bits.”  
“No great loss,” Alfred muttered, standing up. “There is something else that you should know. There was a prophecy…”  
Willow sighed. “There always is.”  
  
Molaxuil demons give anyone who sees them a whole new definition of ‘ugly’. Buffy had seen a lot of ugly things in her time as Chosen, but these guys took the cake: and then proceeded to stomp on it, take a blow torch to it, and then run over it with a semi. And then back over it again just to make sure.  
They were six and a half feet of bone and a thin sheath of muscle and a layer of skin that looked like lizard scales. They were an ugly brownish color, like a mud puddle that had been run through over and over again. The little bit of muscle they had covering their bones did not mean that they were weak in the slightest. They had some strength to them, but they preferred the use of swords, and they had some wicked looking ones: three feet long, with a curved blade that at the ends almost like hooks, with barbs, and rows of teeth along one edge. They wore tattered armor, mix matched all along their bodies, but Buffy could see a few openings. She hoped whatever it was about the man at her side that made him so good at what he did, helped him spot those chinks in the armor also.  
Simultaneously, the hunters attacked. Buffy flipped out of the way of hers, and then threw herself to the ground to avoid a back swing of a sword, rolling several feet away, before jumping back up to her feet just in time to dodge another sword swing aimed at her head, and deliver a nice kick to the demons midsection. While the demon recovered, she took a moment to check on the Bat. He was just fine, and he was handling the Molaxuil just fine as well.  
The creature had charged him, sword held back wide. Batman had waited until the last minute, just as the sword was coming toward his left shoulder, and spun on his heel into it. Bringing up his arm, he caught the blade in the gauntlet he wore, the razor sharp protrusions trapping the sword. With a twist of his wrist, the sword blade gave way, and broke into several pieces.  
The hunter growled, tossing the useless weapon aside, but before he could produce his backup, the very same things that had just broken his sword, caught him in the throat, slicing back and forth. The hunter grabbed at the Batman, but he could not break free. His neck was being sliced off and then it heard a click, and the metal flanges separated from the gauntlet, slicing through his neck bone and one even went up into its brain, the sharp tip clearing the back of its skull before stopping. The hunter fell dead.  
Buffy was so busy watching the ease with which her partner disposed of a Molaxuil hunter that she almost let the one she was fighting decapitate her. She ducked just in time, feeling the air from the swung pass right over the top of her head. She did a complete circle, coming up behind the creature, jumping up onto its back and progressed to snap its neck. Done and done.  
“What now?” She asked him as they tossed both bodies into a dumpster to hide them.  
“We might be able to still track the Joker,” he told her. They went back to the Tumbler and got in, backing out of the alley. “Can you still sense him?”  
“Yes, but it is kinda weakened. He definitely went that way, though.” She pointed to her right, and he spun the Tumbler around to face that direction and gunned it.  
Several blocks later, Buffy held up her hand and he pulled to a stop. “Damn! I lost him.”  
“What did you mean when you said that he was possessed?” He asked her.  
“Demons take over a human host, they take it over. I mean, they don’t allow the human host to have a thought or say in anything. That Joker guy was not only aware, but Fargre’an was taking a backseat to the whole thing until he was injured. It is like he is just renting the space, but I can’t see the demon alive when he decides to vacate.”  
Batman took this, and then they drove around the area for a little while. They even stopped and got out, walking around to find any trace of their quarry at all, but nothing.  
There were a few vamps skulking about and they took care of them quickly. The sunrise was fast approaching and Buffy sincerely doubted they were going to find the creepy clown guy and his demon half, so they decided to go home.  
Only they didn’t go home, not to the mansion at least.  
Buffy didn’t even pay that much attention to where they were going. She was still trying to focus her senses to find the Joker. It wasn’t working. She could not understand why it was not working. It was like her Slayer senses had just turned themselves off.  
When she did look up, the Tumbler was pulling into a very dark garage underground. They exited and she followed him into an elevator. He pushed the button for the top floor, and pulled the cowl off.  
“Where are we?” She asked.  
“Penthouse that I own,” he answered her, taking off the gloves next. “While the mansion was being rebuilt, this is where Alfred and I lived until it was finished.” On the top floor, Buffy stepped out into another large room, this one not made of concrete, with a large bed in one corner, a kitchen, a sitting area, a door to her right, and nothing but windows overlooking the city. “We’ll stay here for a little while, rest.” Beyond the door, which as Buffy passed it was a bathroom large enough to accommodate a football team after a game, she watched Bruce trigger a secret door and go in. She followed him inside to find a room much smaller than the bathroom, but still large enough so they were not tripping over each other. There was an area where he could put his armor and change. “You can leave your suit in here with mine,” he told her, removing the armor with practiced ease. “I have some shirts out there in the closet if you want one to wear.”  
She left her suit in there and then went back out, walking naked to the closet. The sun was throwing brilliant shades of orange and yellow over the city. At the closet, she took out a plain white shirt and pulled it on and then went into the bathroom for a glass of water. When she exited, he was standing near the windows by the bed, looking out in a pair of jeans. He turned to her when she approached, and then pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.  
“I dare someone to bother us here,” he whispered to her, kissing the top of her head. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, wanting that rhythm to be the one that she heard for the rest of her days.  
They just stood there, watching the sun come up, the city coming to life around them, holding each other, confident in the quiet and the trueness of it just being the two of them there. Buffy felt a moment of guilt about leaving her friends in a strange place after she had asked them to drop everything and come up here, and she knew the necessity of having Willow cast her spells and draw her runes to protect Bruce and the Bat, but right now it was distant, so far away she could barely make it out. She knew it would return soon enough. Besides, he had killed a Molaxuil hunter all by himself and hadn’t gotten a mark on him. That was something to be proud of.  
“This is the first time since my parents were killed that I have felt unbroken,” he told her. “I feel as if everything that has happened to me that was so dark and painful, was what I had to endure to come to this moment, with you.” He held her even tighter, and she closed her eyes, breathing him in.  
“I know,” she whispered. “I have trudged through hell and back, faced death and demons, and now… Being with you, it is like the destiny within a destiny. Does that make sense?  
“Yes,” he told her, amusement lacing his voice. “How would you like to get away for awhile? Go somewhere where they can’t find us. Just you and me.”  
“What about the bad guys and the monsters?” She asked, pulling away from him enough to look up into his face. “What about the city of Gotham?”  
He looked down at her, his face full of serious, but his eyes full of love – for her. “To hell with all of them and to hell with this city.”  
She stared at him for a few seconds, and he thought for a moment that she was going to disagree, to argue, to tell him it was wrong. And then she smiled. “Let ‘em know what it is like to not have us protecting their ungrateful hides.”  
He returned her smile, kissing her deeply. Gotham City went about its life around them, unaware that the only two people in the entire world who could save them from the coming onslaught of darkness had just decided to take a vacation.


	19. MIA

 

Willow knew something was wrong that morning when she woke up. 

When she learned exactly what, she wished she had stayed in bed.

The second she came down the stairs, followed closely by Kennedy, Xander came running toward them. Willow saw the look of concern on his face, and of course, her first thoughts were of Bruce and Buffy or Batman and Buffy. Was she supposed to consider them two people, even if she knew that they were not?

“What? Oh my Gosh! Is one of them hurt? One of them is hurt! How bad?” Willow asked, trying not to trip down the last few steps.

“No, I mean,” Xander said, waving his hands around like he was trying to take off and fly away, “we don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Kennedy asked. Xander just motioned for them to follow him and together the three of them went to the study where Alfred was. “Ok. Here is the deal: they went out last night following the bat signal, but the cops did not fix it. According to the paper this morning, someone else did. They didn’t come back to the cave this morning. Alfred checked.”

“I used the computer to trace the Tumbler. It is at the Penthouse, but they are not answering any of my calls,” Alfred added while clicking away at the computer. “They entered the Penthouse at 6:27 this morning according to the computer logs there.”

“Computer logs?” Willow wondered out loud.

“The security system Master Bruce had installed. It records at what time the elevator was used and so forth. They used the elevator once at 6:27 and then again at 8:15. Just ten minutes ago.”

“And they aren’t just not answering their phones,” Xander corrected. “When I try to call Buffy, it tells me that the party I am trying to reach is out of signal area and the same when Al tries to call Bruce.” Alfred glanced up, a look of annoyance on his face at being called Al, but he said nothing. 

“Was one of them injured or captured?” Willow asked. “Is there any way we can know for sure both of them were at the Penthouse?”

Alfred nodded, tapping at the keyboard again. “The camera in the elevator. Let me just bring it up.” Willow, Kennedy, and Xander all piled up around Alfred so they could see the screen. “Here we are.” Alfred clicked on a button and a recording of the interior of an elevator popped up on the screen. He enlarged it to full size and they all leaned forward to watch.

Bruce entered first, or rather Batman, and then Buffy.

“Hey! Is that Buffy’s outfit?” Xander piped up, pointing at the screen. “Wow! That is…”

“Xander!” Willow scolded. Xander shut his mouth.

On the screen, Bruce hit the button on the elevator, and removed his cowl and gloves. They were talking, and both appeared to be fine. 

“No visible injuries. Can we see when they left?” 

Alfred clicked around and then another shot of the elevator came up. This time Buffy and Bruce were dressed normally, Bruce in a suit, and Buffy in a knee high dress. She put her arm through his as they rode down, and both seemed alright: they were talking and at one point laughing. Then the elevator stopped and they got off.

 

“I even called Lucius. He hasn’t heard or seen from Mr. Wayne today.” Alfred clicked the computer off. 

“So we know that they are alive and not hurt, whoever sent out the signal was not the police, and, what?” Willow mused. “They aren’t talking to us? They are laying low? What?”

“I don’t know,” Alfred sighed, running his hands slowly down his face, looking as if he were sick or something. “But whatever is going on, I hope they know what they are doing?”



There was just the two of them, a cook, and a man to steer the yacht, whatever he was called. Buffy could not remember, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t pilot or captain. Steerman? Guy who mans the big wheel? She wasn’t certain, and really didn’t care. He did his job, and that was all that mattered.

She and Bruce had arrived at the dock just after 9:30. He had taken her shopping again, attire for yachting, and then they were ready for playing hooky out in the sea. 

Bruce wanted them to go out far enough to not be spotted, but close enough just in case. Both had moments of guilt, both knowing that this was wrong, but they both also knew that they needed a break. And besides, risking your life for a city that didn’t give a damn about you, wanted to see you behind bars sometimes more so than the criminals themselves, was taxing and spirit draining. They deserved this. They needed this.

The rest of the day, except when they went out on deck to eat, they stayed below decks, in the master suite. With no one to interrupt them, it was time well spent. 

That night, they drifted onto shore again only to attend a party thrown by the city for the Police Force. A charity benefit sort of thing. Bruce wore a black tux with a bowtie, though his was different from all the others by the fact that his cost ten times more. Buffy wore a black, strapless gown that shimmered and caught the light thanks to the rhinestones on the bust and trim. The big hog of the dancing lights was the chocker she wore. It was made of diamonds set in platinum, with a large tear shaped diamond that dangled and set into the dip in her throat. Bruce pointed out in a whisper that many of the women in the room rented their jewelry for events such as this from jewelry stores. Buffy’s choker and ring and bracelet and earrings were not rented: she had been there when Bruce had written out the $1,476,897.42 check out for them.

That would be in the paper tomorrow.

They blasted through the party, Bruce greeting everyone who approached him, introducing her to all the same. Drinks that were not drunk, and conversations that were empty, all went by in a blur. When the commotion died down, and at the first available opportunity, they slipped out, abandoning the party, and seeking the sanctuary of the yacht.

The next night, a play at Gotham Theater, one they only watched half of, sneaking out without detection. And then the opera, and two more parties over the next week, never staying longer than they had to, just long enough to make it in the papers the next day, and then back to the privacy they apparently could get at sea.



“I don’t bloody believe it!” Alfred exclaimed, throwing the paper down on the counter top. Willow was leaning not too far away, enjoying her coffee while Xander was outside, mowing, and Kennedy was still asleep.

During this past week that Bruce and Buffy had been hitting all the hotspots, but not crime fighting, Kennedy had been going out at night, doing what she could. And she made it very obvious how she felt about this and about the absent duo.

“What now?” Willow asked, staring into the half empty mug.

“Showed up at the Mayor’s birthday party last night,” Alfred sat down heavily. “One minute they were there and the next they were gone, and then on the same bloody page, they are talking about the apparent nonappearance of the Batman.” He shook his head. “I do not know what has gotten into those two, but I wish they would snap out of it.”

The doorbell rang, startling Willow. Alfred just sighed and stood. Something told Willow to follow, so she sat her cup down, and did so. She had just turned the corner as Alfred opened the door, and she smiled in surprise.

“Giles!” She rushed to him and hugged him.

“Willow, how nice to see you.” He turned to the Wayne butler. “Mr. Pennyworth. An honor to see you again, sir.”

“Likewise, Mr. Giles. Please, come in.”

Giles stepped inside, glancing around, in his usual awkward way. “I do not mean to barge in unannounced and then make demands, but where is Buffy.”

Alfred and Willow exchanged a worrisome glance, before Alfred cleared his throat. “We are not really sure.”

“What?” Giles was truly perplexed. 

“She and Bruce have not been here in a week. We can’t get in touch with them and don’t know where they are hiding out at.” Willow looked down at her feet. Not as interesting as hot, steaming liquid, but they would do.

Giles stuttered around, unsure of what to say, and very perplexed. Finally, he removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “That is unfortunate, because I found some most disturbing news pertaining to the Insurrection.”

Alfred and Willow exchanged another look, this one more worrisome than the last. “Sit down, and tell us what you know.” Willow said as she closed the door.



Buffy found Bruce out on the deck, leaning against the rail, staring out at the sea. His back was to the city. She pulled the coat she wore tighter about her against the night air, and walked over to his side.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He was silent for a moment. “I am thinking about how guilty I feel, but at the same time I want to leave and never come back.” He looked over at her. “I want to run far away, it’s nothing I haven’t done before, but then I can’t just abandon Gotham to the fate of a madman.”

“I know how you feel,” Buffy admitted, not as reluctant as she would have been had he not said anything. “In all the years that I have been a Slayer, I have never been able to just leave it, except that once, when I was 18, but that didn’t work out so well, and I have a feeling that this won’t either.”

Bruce sighed, pushing himself off the rail, and pulling her to him. “I guess we need to face the music and go home.”

“And face our friends, Alfred, Lucius,” she sighed, resting against him for a moment, and then pulling away. “But first, we go to the circus.” She straightened the dark red tie he was wearing, which happened to match the dress she was wearing under her coat. “One last night and then we will face whatever we have to.”

Bruce nodded, kissing her, and then brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Yes. Every day, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Then I love you more than the very air that I breathe.” He kissed her again, and then took her hand. “Come. We have a circus to see.”


	20. It's All Fun and Games

Buffy had to admit that she had never been a fan of the circus. She hated clowns. They gave her the Wiggins in a major way, but the paper had said that this was to be a momentous occasion. Never before had this circus been to Gotham. It was a gypsy circus, one of great renowned all over the world. According to the posters all around the big huge red and white stripped tent, the star attraction were the Flying Graysons, a high wire act that required no net, and were spectacular to behold. Buffy and Bruce both agreed that it would be the perfect distraction on their last night of freedom.

They were seated on the front row, among a bunch of people that Bruce knew and Buffy had probably met in the last week, but couldn’t really remember. It seemed to her that everyone was watching them, and after the morning’s paper about the money he was spending on her and the time they were spending together (Is Bruce Wayne Ready to Settle Down?), she wasn’t surprised.

It had been a long time since either one of them had been to the circus. When the lights went out and the Ringmaster appeared, highlighted by a single ray of light from above, the audience went silent and the entertainment began. 

Elephants, tigers, lions, and clowns. Fire breathers, the strong man, more clowns, dancing bears – everything imaginable. Finally, after much anticipation, the stars took the center stage.

And they were marvelous. Flying high above, with no net down below. It was spectacular and graceful and beautiful. The Flying Graysons were a family consisting of parents, their seventeen year old daughter, fifteen years old son, and their youngest child who was eight. Though he did not perform with them, he was up on the platform, helping out whenever he was needed. All of it was flawless and amazing to behold. 

The lights shut off again, and Buffy heard someone gasp, and then silence. Her hand tightened on Bruce’s arm. “Something is wrong,” she told him, but before they could stand and use the darkness to sneak out, the center light came back on.

And there stood the Joker. 

The only thing that kept the crowd from jumping up and trying to escape in a panic was the other clowns that came out with machine guns. Women were screaming, children were crying. Everyone had seen the Joker’s face in the newspapers and on television when he had terrorized the city before. 

He reached inside the inside pocket of his jacket and fired a few rounds at the ceiling. There were cries of surprise, but the crowd quieted down, although a few sobs could be heard here and there. He wore the same suit he always had and the strange, poorly applied makeup. The only difference was the patch over his left eye.

 

“Greetings, Gotham City,” the Joker stated loudly into the microphone. There was an incredible amount of high pitched feedback. He tapped on the microphone, blew into it, and then turned around to the back of the tent and waved the microphone into the air. After a few moments, he turned back to the crowd. “Hello, again,” he said. This time there was no feedback. “I am the Joker, which you already know. What you do not know is that I have several bombs placed about this big tent here.” More gasps. “Now, before anyone gets upset, let me just say that I have no intention of setting off those bombs.” Silence. “I just want what I have always wanted and no one will get hurt. Does anyone know what it is that I want?”

No one moved or said anything. He held the microphone out and turned in a circle, then sighed and tapped it against his head. The sound vibrated through the speaker system. “I just want the Batman to show himself. That is all. All I ask.”

Buffy felt Bruce stiffen next to her and she gripped his arm even tighter, shaking her head slightly. He did not relax at all, who would, but he did not make any more moves either. 

“While we wait, let’s have a little entertainment, shall we?” He turned to the high wire. “They were so good before, so let us give a round of applause to the Flying Graysons.” He began to clap, but no one joined in. Sighing dramatically, he spun around to the crowd once more. “Clap or we start shooting people.” Slowly the crowd began to clap. He waved his arms around and the clapping increased. “Good. Now for the act.”

 

Up above the Graysons had climbed to the wires again. They were nervous, obviously afraid, but the fact that one of the Joker’s men had the youngest boy by the arm, a gun to his head, urged them to go on.

“Well, get started,” the Joker urged into the microphone. Stealing themselves, they began to perform. “It is amazing to me how they do this with such confidence.” The Joker commented. “How dedicated they are. You know the Batman is dedicated, has done so much for this city, but yet you people abhor him. It makes me wonder what you would do if all of the sudden he decided to disappear and never come back.” The Joker shook his head. Up above, the Flying Graysons performed. “You blame him for everything. I wasn’t expecting him to show himself tonight. In fact, given what has been going on the last few days, I think he has abandoned all of you.” He peered up at the performers. “And do you know why? Because you are an ungrateful bunch of pigs!” He shouted into the microphone. “I really needed to repay the Batman for what he and his little helper did to me!” He pointed at his eye patch with the barrel of his gun. “But you, Gotham, have robbed me of that! So this is for you.”

The explosion was not a big one. In fact it was very small. Just large enough to send the high wire polls falling to the ground below, along with the Flying Graysons. Buffy could only watch in abject horror as she and Bruce jumped to their feet, along with everyone else. There were gasps and screams, and cries from the crowd as all watch helplessly as the four people fell to their deaths.

 

In the confusion, the Joker and his men had disappeared. The crowd began to scramble in panic. Buffy turned to leave, what else could she do, but Bruce refused to move. She turned to look at him, saw the look on his face: his eyes wide, his features pale. He was breathing heavily.

“Bruce,” she began, but before she could get his entire name out, he pulled away from her, jumped over the railing, and began fighting his way through the throngs of panicking people. 

Buffy followed as best as she could in the dress and heals she wore. She looked around frantic for him, but could not see him. She knew he had not left, but she did not know where he had gone to. And then she found him. And she remembered what he had told her about having to watch his parents die when he had been nine years old, and everything made since.

He was on the other side of the tent, and in his arms, shielded by Bruce’s body from the twisted and broken bodies of his family, was the youngest member of the Flying Graysons.



People were giving statements to the police. Policemen, media from both news TV and the newspaper were there. Sirens and flashing lights. Ambulances and medical people helping the ones wounded during the stampede out. The coroner’s van, backed into the circus tent. 

Buffy had already given her statement as had Bruce. Now she was leaning against a police car, her eyes on Bruce. He was talking to Commissioner Gordon. Every once in a while, he would glance over at her and she could see the haunted look in his eyes. Then he and Gordon would glance over at Gordon’s unmarked car. Finally, Gordon nodded, and they shook hands. Bruce came over to her.

“Gordon is going to let us take him home, to Wayne Manor,” Bruce announced and Buffy did not question his need or reason for this. She just nodded. “I’ll go get him.” He turned and went to the unmarked car. He kneeled down in the open back door, and all she could see of him was his shoes. Then he slowly stood and in his arms, holding on tightly to him, was the young boy, who had buried his tear streaked face into Bruce’s shoulder, and shuddering with sobs. 

Buffy felt her heart break.

She felt her anger at the Joker multiply.

She felt her guilt like a stab to the heart.

When Bruce walked up to her, she took his coat that she had been holding and draped it over the boy, tucking it in so it would not fall off. She looked up into Bruce’s eyes and saw the same things she was feeling, only there was something else there also, sadness. An understanding. 

And a raw, unadulterated need to avenge.


	21. Homecoming

The boy, whose name was Richard, fell asleep still holding onto Bruce as Buffy drove them home. They drove in silence, she glancing over every once and a while, Bruce staring straight ahead, his eyes and features unreadable, but she did not have to see to know what he was thinking, because she was thinking the same thing. 

When she parked the car in front of the mansion, and turned the motor off, all the lights were on inside. As Bruce got out of the car, managing to not drop or wake up the boy, Buffy took a deep breath, and prepared to face the music.

The door opened and Alfred was the first one out, followed by Willow, Xander, and – to Buffy’s surprise and dread – Giles. Anger was definitely a feeling that they all shared, but whatever scolding words they had planned and, no doubt, rehearsed, for the week long missing couple, died before they even opened their mouths when they saw Bruce carrying the boy. 

Bruce did not stop or slow his stride. It was not an all out stomp, or march, but there was purpose in his step, as he made his way up to the door, the four people there parting to let him through without any obstacle, and into the house. Without looking at anyone, or offering a single word of explanation, he simply went through the mansion, and up the stairs.

“Oh my God, Buffy, is that the boy from the circus?” Willow asked, tears in her eyes.

Buffy nodded. “Bruce talked Commissioner Gordon into letting us bring Richard home with us. He couldn’t stand the thought of him being sent to Child Services, not after what had happened…” She sighed, it sounding and feeling like it came from her feet. “Bruce was the first one to him after it happened. Everyone was running and screaming, but he fought his way through them to the boy. The medic had to pry him away from Bruce, and he screamed and screamed, only calming down when Bruce picked him up again. He managed to get him to sit in Gordon’s car while they talked.”

She looked up at all of them, one by one, in turn. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I know we shouldn’t have…”

“You are bloody right you shouldn’t have,” Giles exclaimed in a loud whisper. “What were you thinking?”

“They weren’t.” Xander, kind of sheepishly. “At least not with their heads.” He tapped his head with the knuckles of his right hand.

“We can discuss this later,” Alfred said, and put his arm around Buffy, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Let’s go inside.”

“We cannot just let this go,” Giles snapped, refusing to leave his place inside the door, barring entry.

“We aren’t, but now is not the time,” Alfred returned, elbowing the ex-Watcher out of he and Buffy’s way.

“Alfred, she is my charge –“

“Your bloody charge!” Alfred released Buffy and turned on the (slightly) younger man. “You, who sends her into battle with darkness and evil, knowing bloody well that she might not survive. You who has thrown her to the demons of hell for fourteen damn years.” Willow, Xander, and Buffy were standing there with their mouths agape: they had never heard or seen Alfred angry. “Just like every other Watcher before you, you don’t care about your charge, only what she can do.”

“I have – had – a job to do and at least I did it!”

It was almost certain that Alfred at the very least wanted to punch Giles in the face, but he did not go through with it. “How dare you come into this house…”

“Does he know? Have you told him what he is?” Giles blurted, pulling his glasses violently off of his face and stuffing them into his shirt pocket. “Does he know why you were sent here? What it was you were supposed to do?”

Alfred began to retort, but a voice stopped him.

“What is he talking about, Alfred?”

They all turned to find Bruce standing there, hands in his pants pockets, his eyes fixed on Alfred. 

“Master Wayne –“ 

“What have you not told me? When you told me about Buffy and what she was, and what she did, what did you leave out?”

“Listen!” Willow said, standing between Giles and Alfred, her hands outstretched. “It has been a long night. We should all just go try and get some sleep, and we will deal with all of this in the morning.”

“Willow is right,” Xander agreed. “Give everyone time to calm down, and we can discuss this with level heads tomorrow.”

Buffy and Bruce did not go to sleep. After everyone had gone to their respective rooms, they stayed awake. Richard was sound asleep between them in the bed. He would whimper and mumble in his sleep and sometimes he would toss and turn. Bruce would touch his forehead, or whisper to him, and the boy would become quiet and still for a little while.

“What is going to happen to him?” Buffy asked. She brushed the boy’s hair out of his face. 

“According to the people at the circus, he has no more family,” Bruce answered. His head was propped up on his hand. “I will talk to Lucius tomorrow. See what I have to do to so he can stay with us here.”

“And what about the ones responsible?”

Bruce lay down on his back, reaching over and turning off the light. Buffy waited a few moments, but he said nothing, so she lay her head down, preparing to go to sleep.

“They will pay,” Bruce whispered harshly in the dark. Correction: The Batman. Not Bruce.

“I will hunt them down and make sure that they do. One way or another.”



Buffy was dreading getting out of bed, because the moment she did and went down stairs, things would have to be explained, accusations would be made, decisions would have to be made, and things were going to change. She could feel it in her bones.

A sudden lurch in her stomach, but it settled quickly. Sighing, she climbed out of the bed. Bruce was already awake and up. Richard, the boy, was still asleep in the middle of the bed. Buffy made sure he was covered up, and started to leave the room.

Oh! Her stomach again, only this time it would not settle. She padded to the bathroom, closed the door quietly behind her, and proceeded to throw up for a good five minutes. She hadn’t eaten anything since just before they left the yacht last night. She couldn’t imagine what was making her sick. Maybe it was just nerves or stress, from everything that had happened last night to what she knew she must face today.

Once she was sure she was done throwing up, she left the bathroom, checked on the boy once more, and then left the room to go downstairs. 

Willow, Xander, Giles, and Kennedy were at the dining room table, and Kennedy looked like she had been put through the ringer – repeatedly.

“Well, look who decided to make an appearance, finally,” Kennedy snapped, ignoring the look from Willow. “Did you have fun? I sure hope so. While you were off playing Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, I was getting my ass kicked doing your job.”

Buffy opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. “Kennedy, stop it. Please!” Willow stated in a gentle voice.

“No! I will not. She has got her head in the clouds. She thinks that all her years of being the Slayer is finally paying off. Well, you know what?” Kennedy stood, knocking the chair she had been sitting in down onto the floor with a loud crash, causing everyone to jump. “The little bubble that you have around you is about to be popped.” She strode over to Buffy, who braced herself for a fight. “He doesn’t love you. He never has. You were just available and willing, just to get him some more attention. You are delusional if you think you are good enough for the likes of him. He will never marry you. Never!”

“Kennedy!” Willow cried, jumping to her feet. “How dare you talk to her like that? You are a Potential. She is the Slayer.”

“A Slayer. You keep forgetting about Faith.” Kennedy brushed past Buffy who just stood there, saying nothing, her eyes cast down to the floor. 

“Buffy, I am sorry,” Willow apologized as she followed Kennedy out of the room.

“Listen Buf-“ Xander began.

“Where is Bruce?” She asked, hugging herself as if chilled.

“He and Alfred are in the library,” Giles answered, sipping coffee. “What I said last night, well, it was uncalled for. You have been the Slayer longer than anyone else, fought a great many things –“

“Closed a hell mouth, stopped a hell bitch from creating hell on earth, and died twice!” Buffy snapped, looking up at him. “When is it enough? When will being the Slayer stop taking from me everything and everyone I care about? When do I get to be happy?”

Giles looked down at the saucer that was there, placing the cup into it with a clink! Xander pretended he was not in the room.

“I know what you are feeling-“

“No. You don’t!” And Buffy stormed out of the room.



When Alfred left the library, he smiled at her, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then disappeared around the corner. Buffy entered the room slowly, finding Bruce standing in front of the windows, staring out into the yard. 

“Would you close the door?” He asked her and she did. “Buffy, we have to…” He sighed, and then turned to face her. 

“Do you love me?” She asked. Kennedy’s words had stung her, and she didn’t believe all that the Potential had said. 

Bruce looked at her strangely, his brow furrowing. “Of course I do,” he told her, coming around the items in the room until he was standing in front of her. “I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being. I would lay down my life for you.”

 

“Could you live for me?” She kept her arms folded over her chest even though she wanted so badly to hold him. “Could you do that? Because dying is easy, but the living part is not so much.”

He caressed her face, and then brushed her hair back. He looked deep into her eyes, and underneath everything else, there it was, that look of love. So deep. So pure. All for her.

“I could do that,” he told her, meaning it. “But not right now.”

She nodded. “I know.” That was when she allowed herself to fall into his arms. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she fought them hard, let them burn to nothing in the fire that was the Slayer. She held him tightly, breathed in his scent, tried to memorize everything about him even though she knew there was nothing left that she hadn’t already done so. She didn’t want to let him go, because if she did, it might be for the last time. “I love you so much.” She whispered. Almost giving in. Almost.

“Buffy, when this is over, and we…we survive it,” he said as his hands stroked her hair and her back. He held onto her just as tight as she did him and that made her feel better. “When this is over, and we are together again, I want it to be forever.”

She gasped. One tear managed to escape. “You mean it?”

“Yes, with all my heart.”

“Ok.” She said, and then she pulled away from him and ran out of the library.


	22. The Things You Learn

Since there was Buffy, Giles, Willow, Kennedy, and Xander, and they had no place to go and no way to get there, they stayed in the mansion. Alfred and Bruce went to the penthouse. Richard stayed with Buffy and the others.  
It had been this way for two weeks. No Joker. No Riddler. No nothing. It was as if all the bad guys, human and demon alike, had left the city. But they knew that wasn’t true. They had just run underground, gathering, waiting for the word that would send them rippling through the city like a tidal wave.  
Though Buffy and the Bat did not patrol together, they did meet on occasion on a roof top here and there to catch up. Necessary, but torturous all the same. While she knew what it was what he had planned, and she didn’t exactly agree with it, it was his decision to make, and she would stand by him no matter what. She made that very clear to everyone, especially him.  
“Why is it like this again?” Xander asked munching on the bran flakes with blueberries and raspberries on top. It wasn’t half bad.  
“Because we have to find and stop the Joker, you know, Slayer style, but Bruce – I mean Batman – is going to go after these guys, and not in your regular, typical Batman style.” Willow answered.  
“He is going to pulverize them,” Kennedy interpreted.  
“He’s going to kill them,” Buffy corrected, entering the room. The smell of food was making her sick – again – even if it was just fruit and cereal. She had spent the better part of the six o’clock A.M. hour puking her guts up. She swore she saw her spleen at one point. “For what they did to Dick’s parents.”  
“Dick!” Xander huffed, but the stern looks he got from all around the table caused him to stuff a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, almost choking him, and effectively shutting him up.  
“And you are just going to let him?” Giles asked, for the hundredth time over the last two days, or so it seemed. “Wasn’t that the whole point the last time this Joker chap terrorized the city: was bring Batman down to his level? Is this not his succeeding?”  
“I don’t tell Bruce what to do,” Buffy snapped, setting the empty coffee pot down a little too hard. The glass shattered all over the place.  
“I’ll get it,” Willow said, coming over and helping her friend pick up the shards of glass. “You don’t look so good.” She said, eyeing Buffy thoughtfully. “Are you sleeping okay? Sick or something?”  
Buffy began to say ‘Yes, I am a little under the weather” but Richard walked into the kitchen at that moment. “Hey, sweetheart. Want some breakfast?” She went over to him, ruffling his already sleep tossed hair.  
“When is Bruce coming back?” He asked. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her ribs.  
“Come here,” she said, leading him out of the room and onto the nearest couch she could find. “Listen, Bruce will be home soon, okay. He just has something to take care of.”  
“He thinks I blame him for what happened,” Dick whispered, hanging his head down.  
“Why would he think that? Why would – “ Buffy cut herself off with a gasp. “Richard, what do you know? Tell me, sweetie.”  
“I know that Bruce is the Batman,” he admitted, looking up at her with those strangely shaded bright blue eyes. Willow said that they were the eyes of one who could see what no one else could. Giles said there was gypsy power in the boy’s blood. “And I know that you are the Slayer.”  
Buffy shared a shocked look with Willow who had just followed them into the room carrying a glass of orange juice which she handed to Richard. She didn’t look as stunned as Buffy, though.  
“How do you know that?” Buffy asked, seeing as Willow was not going to elaborate on the boy’s evident gift.  
“I just do.” He shrugged his small shoulders, and then took a big gulp of the orange juice. “It is in my blood. It just happens.”  
Willow patted him on the back, sitting down next to him, while Buffy took the place on his other side. “Tell her about your ancestor.”  
“Many generations ago, my grandfather avenged the death of his middle daughter by cursing the vampire that had killed her.” He looked up at Buffy. “He gave him his soul back.”  
Buffy gasped, covering her hand with her mouth. Her eyes darted to the witch. “Angelus? Richard is descended from the clan who cursed Angelus?” Willow nodded. Richard shrugged again.  
“Tell he what else you know,” Willow said encouragingly. Richard nodded and reached over to set his glass down on a coaster on the table.  
Once again, he looked up into Buffy’s eyes and she found it strange that the boy’s eyes had a hypnotizing quality to them. It must be a gypsy magic effect, designed to soften a blow, or to try and lessen the shock a person gets when they hear something unexpected, like Buffy did.  
“You’re pregnant.”  
  
“Pregnant!” Giles exclaimed as he sputtered his coffee all over the Gotham Herald he had been reading and then dumping the contents of his coffee cup all over the table as he dropped it.  
Xander just sat in stunned silence, his jaw practically resting on the table. He looked like he was about to pass out.  
“Oh great,” Kennedy mumbled, but Willow silenced her with a scathing look.  
“Well,” Giles began, trying to clean up the mess he had made while attempting to gather himself. “What are you going to do?”  
“The same thing I usually do,” Buffy answered her tone suggesting that Giles had asked a stupid question.  
“But, Buffy, you can’t. I mean,” Willow stated, looking at Giles for support, “we don’t know how being pregnant will affect you being a slayer. Your powers and such.”  
“Willow is right,” Giles chimed in. “There has never been a Slayer who has conceived a child after being Chosen. The only Slayer who had a child was Wood’s mother, and he was already born by the time she was chosen.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief he dug out of his jacket pocket. “There just isn’t any information on how this will influence your abilities.”  
“Well, I can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Buffy snapped. Hormones, now she understood the mood swings and the throwing up.  
“Are you going to tell Bruce?” Xander. Finally coming out of his shock and joining the conversation. Leave it to him to ask the one question Buffy did not want to answer.  
“No,” she said simply.  
“Why not?” Asked Willow.  
“Because right now he thinks we are on even ground. I go fight demons and he goes and fights the humans that are doing bad things. We both do our jobs and that is that. If I tell him about this, then he won’t think we are on that even ground anymore. He has enough to worry about. I am not going to add this to the burden he already has. If he is worrying about me, then he is not worrying about himself as much as he should.”  
“I think he worries about you anyway, just like you worry about him,” Xander stated, rubbing at his eye patch. Sometimes it still itched.  
“Yes, but the worry we have for each other right now is normal. If he finds out about the baby, then he will double worry about me and that makes us uneven. And when things are uneven, then someone gets hurt, usually the person who is…the uneven one.” Buffy nodded sagely. It made perfect sense to her.  
“He has a right to know,” Willow quipped. “He’s the father. He should have a say in anything that could concern the welfare of his child.”  
All of this was making Buffy’s head hurt. She had just found out she was pregnant. She would like to be able to take a few moments and let it sink in, and then cry, throw things, cry some more, take a nap, and then cry even more. She knew she had to tell him, but she couldn’t do it now. It would influence what had to be done, and what had to be done had to be done. There was no getting around it. As much as she wanted to hide somewhere and protect the life growing inside of her, she knew that she could not. She had to stand and fight.  
“I can’t tell him,” Buffy said firmly. It hurt her, that much was for sure. She so badly wanted to see the look on his face when she told him. But then, doubt creeped into her mind: what if he wasn’t ready to be a father? What if he didn’t want their baby? She brushed the thought away before she did actually start to cry. “Not now. He needs to focus on what is going on.”  
Willow began to protest, but Giles stopped her. “Buffy is right. We all need to be focused. We cannot afford to not be vigilant. As much as it bothers me to say this, the fact that she is pregnant does take a back seat to what is going on.”  
“Don’t worry, Buff,” Xander said, pulling her into a hug. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see. We will kick the bad guy’s butts, and declare ourselves heroes though no one will share our sentiments because, you know, we can’t like spread the word. And then you and Bruce can have this baby and all the future green-eyed ones you want to. Because they probably will all have green eyes since you both do, and just think of how spoiled they will be. You know, as well as anyone, that he will buy them all the toys, pets, and amusement parks they could ever want.”  
“I hope you guys have a girl,” Willow chimed in, smiling. “Just think, when she gets old enough to date, the guy stupid enough to ask her out will find himself strung up from a street lamp.”  
“There would be a leveling system,” Xander explained. “First time you ask her out – street lamp. I think it would just excel from there. Second offense – balcony, low level. Third offense – balcony, high level. For the most extreme offenses, it is the bridges.”  
Giles, with the straight face of an extremely great poker player, said, “Mom, would you please tell dad to stop flattening my boyfriend’s car with that tank of his?”  
Everyone burst out laughing, except for Kennedy, who let out a disgusted sigh. She had remained silent, her arms folded over her chest. Now she stood and left the room in a huff, stomping through the mansion and up the stairs. Willow smiled apologetically and followed her.  
“Buffy,” Giles said, all real serious again. “I know this insurrection thing has gotten you on edge, all of us really, but you should consider telling him before this is over.” Buffy was surprised. “Yes, it may shift his focus some, but he knows what he is doing. He is a very astute young man. Besides, knowledge like this could strengthen a person’s resolve as well as their hope and willpower. You should take that into consideration also.”  
Buffy just nodded and sat down at the table. She was feeling a little nauseous again so she put her head down, resting her forehead on her crossed wrists.  
So much had happened. Giles had told all of them about the Insurrection the morning before Bruce and Alfred had left. Though he did not know what the dagger had to do with all of this, and he had studied it greatly, the Insurrection, instead of being a mutiny or anything of the sort, was actually a ceremony that created a hell mouth. The Joker, Fargre’an, and their ilk wanted to turn Gotham into another Sunnydale, and Cleveland, and that small village outside of Rome, only here it would be all of those three combined, and then some. The dagger had to have something to do with this ritual, but while it was obvious to Buffy, Giles did not believe that it was that simple.  
While Giles explained this, Buffy had stayed on her side of the room and Bruce on his. Though they both sneaked glances at each other, it was never when they knew the other was looking. She could feel his eyes on her when he did look at her, and she had to fight from returning the look and vice versa, because once that look was shared, their resolve would dwindle. Bruce had to do what the Bat needed to do. He did not want her seeing that side of him. And having them both together was not as good an option as being separated. It was better, if you could call it that, if one was taken out, that the other was still able to do their job. If they were together, the chances of the both of them being hurt or worse was too great.  
There had been a few battles over the last two weeks. The bounty was still on the Bat’s head so Bruce had allowed Willow to fortify his armor with her magic and runes, protecting him from everything she could think of just to be sure. She had also done her protective spells at the Penthouse and at Wayne Tower.  
She sat back up, finding herself alone in the room. She decided she needed to cheek on Dick who was in Bruce’s room (her room, their room) watching television on a TV she had brought in for him. He had taken to sleeping with her during the day, staying up all night. Not a great habit and certainly not one Child’s Services would be happy about. Fortunately they had been able to get away with it: the woman assigned to them came in the afternoon, at a time when Buffy and Dick was awake, and Bruce was (supposedly) at work at Wayne Tower.

As she went upstairs, she wondered if they would get to raise not only their child, but Richard as well, together.


	23. Regret Malfunction

Bruce winced as he tried to raise his arm above his shoulder. Not only had it taken another substantial hit last night, but he had slept on it wrong. Sighing, wiping the steam off of the mirror, he ignored the bruises, some old and some new, and began shaving. Today he had two meetings at Wayne Tower, both of them he would have no qualms about sleeping through (or pretending to), and then he had nothing planned until the sun went down.  
For the two weeks that he and Alfred had been staying in the Penthouse, he had made it his only goal to hunt down the Joker and his men and make them pay for what they had done to Dick Grayson’s family. He knew that the images and the horror were still etched clearly in the young boy’s mind, and that they would be for many years to come. Bruce knew what the boy was going through. It had been 21 years since his own parents had been murdered in front of him, by some strung out addict looking for easy money, and there were times when he still woke up from the nightmare as if he were 9 years old again.  
That was why he was doing this: plain and simple. He was using the Batman to hunt these murderers and bring them to justice. His justice. Not the police’s or the courts. He knew how the courts could fail, had seen the man let lose because he was willing to testify against more influential criminals. Bruce had also watched the man get shot out of the courtroom, watching with grim satisfaction as the man died; as his hand gripped the gun he wouldn’t have to use that had been hidden in his pocket.  
He did not want Richard to have to go through that. He prayed that Richard hadn’t had to experience any of this at all. He would certainly not stand by and let these men get away with this. He knew the cops couldn’t do anything, not what truly needed to be done. He considered it ironic that he had not been willing to compromise his morals to save the city when the Joker had threatened it, but now he was willing to go to whatever lengths were necessary to make sure that Richard’s parents were avenged.  
He read the police report once more. The Joker had claimed to have had placed bombs all about the circus tent area, but the cops had found none. Bomb sniffing dogs hadn’t been able to find anything either. The Joker had lied about that to keep the people in submission, but why place explosives where he had? Why had he wanted the Grayson family dead?  
In two days time Bruce had planned a formal dinner party here at the Penthouse. A worthy cause, to be sure. He had almost backed out several times. Cancelled it. This was not the time to be having a party: the Joker, the Riddler, demons, vampires, and then your everyday, run-of-the-mill thugs all running loose through Gotham. Alfred had, however convinced him that if Bruce Wayne backed out of having a party, then it would show that the bad guys had won, and that there was no hope for the city. Like it or not, Bruce was Gotham City’s Prince, so-to-speak, so it was expected of him to not care what was going on just as long as he had his way.  
And Bruce would get to see Buffy.  
He was to the point that he didn’t care if the city fell apart, or into hell, or became hell, just as long as he could see her again, could look into her eyes as the world fell around them. The decision to separate had been mutual, but he felt that he had been the one who had forced it to happen. There were things that had to be done, that moral compromise, and he did not want her to see him like. It made what he had to do easier, but he knew that was an excuse. He knew the truth and that was if he had stayed with her than he would have let what he felt for her detour him, keep him from what had to be done.  
He left the bathroom and went into the large, wide open sitting room, falling into a chair facing the windows that opened most of Gotham up to him.  
Alfred came into the room at that moment, setting a tray of lunch down. It wasn’t the first time he had come in over the years to find Master Bruce sitting in this same chair in deep thought or full of deep regret. Today, it seemed it was both.  
"What if she was right?” Bruce stated, absently. “What if we can't be together because of who we are? What if the time comes when I have to decide between saving Gotham or saving her? How do I make that decision? How do I sacrifice one so the other can live? And what if I make the wrong choice? What if I can’t make that decision at all? What then?"  
Alfred sighed, resting his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Like you, I do not know the answer to those questions. I do not think anyone does until the time comes when they must be addressed in the moment, when the decisions have to be made and quickly.”  
Bruce sighed, running his hands over his face in aggravation. “I hate that day, when it comes, and I know that it will. Soon.”  
“You don’t know that for sure,” Alfred stated gently, fatherly.  
“Yes,” Bruce said with a chuckle, “I do. It is inevitable. I can feel it as surely as I can feel my heart beating.” He sighed again. “I can’t help but think that I should have left it alone that night. I should have stayed on that couch, pretending like she meant nothing to me, and let her go. It would have injured me more than anything else ever had, but it would have been simpler, and now would be so much more easier.”  
“Master Bruce, you can’t mean that.”  
“Yes, I do.” He nodded, but it was not very convincing. “Haven’t you ever heard that old saying: It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I think they are wrong, because when I didn’t love, it was not like this. You can’t miss what you never had.”  
“You have not loved and lost yet, Sir,” Alfred stated emphatically. “You have not lost her. I think it will take much more than that for either of you to let that happen.”  
Bruce was silent, staring out at nothing. Alfred left the tray and exited the room, leaving the young man to his thoughts, regretful that he could not help more.  
Was it supposed to be this way? Was love supposed to make you so high that you could look down over the clouds one minute, and in the next be wincing as the ground came to meet you out of freefall? He wished for a brief instant that he had never met her, and that he had backed out of the gala at the museum like he had intended to, but then he felt guilt over that thought. No, as painful as it was, as difficult as it could be, he would not wish that again. He loved her, that was the most true thing that he knew, and she loved him. It was strong and it was incredible.  
They would survive this. They would live through this and meet on the other side and live happily ever after. Right? He had to chuckle at that. He knew that no such thing existed, at least not in this day and age, if ever at all. There would always be some demon she had to fight, just as there would always be a criminal like the Joker that he had to contend with. It was never ending. That was just the way the world was.  
He glanced over at the lunch that Alfred had set out for him. For a moment he was tempted, but instead of eating, he stood and made his way back upstairs to get dressed for today’s meetings. The first one would start in fifteen minutes. He would be late, as usual. He never considered this a bad thing: Bruce Wayne was nothing if not fashionably late. Besides many of the people who would be at this meeting were well over the age of sixty and knew him very well for most of his life: if he showed up on time or, God forbid, early, most of them would die of shock. So late he would be.  
He just wished that these two days would hurry up and pass.  
  
And when they had passed quickly, he wished they hadn’t.  
Buffy and her friends, along with Richard, were supposed to come to the party tonight. It just felt wrong if he hadn’t asked them. When he had called earlier to make sure, he had hoped Buffy would be the one to answer, but he was glad when it was Willow that did. It had taken everything he had to not ask to speak with Buffy, and even more so when Willow had asked him if he wanted to speak with her.  
The guests began arriving at the appointed hour, and Alfred greeted them while Bruce remained upstairs. He would make his entrance once everyone arrived.  
He slipped over to the railing to look down below to see who had arrived so far. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Willow, Kennedy, Xander, and Giles. He searched but he could not see Buffy or Richard anywhere. He caught Alfred’s eye and the butler came up the stairs to him.  
“Where is Buffy and Richard?” He asked, deeply concerned.  
“Miss Summers is not feeling well, and is in the restroom. Young Master Richard is standing outside the door waiting for her.” Was the explanation.  
After Bruce greeted his guests, he turned to Willow who had been watching him with a strange smile on her face. “Is Buffy sick? Alfred said she was not feeling well.”  
“Just a little bug,” Willow answered with a tiny shrug.  
“Yes, a little bug. Just the stress of being – “ His words were cut off when Willow jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Stress of the whole bad guy thing goin’ down. Whole city is nervous about it really. Horrible thing. All this crime. I am going to go over to the buffet and strangle my sorrows in caviar and shrimp.” Xander quickly disappeared into the crowd.  
Bruce had watched the exchange with concern, knowing they were keeping something from him. Willow just smiled sheepishly and then backed a few steps away and then she herself disappeared into the crowd also. Yes, they were definitely hiding something from him.  
It took him a few moments to find Buffy. She was standing not too far from the bathroom door as if afraid to get too far away from it. Richard was by her side. Actually he was standing in front of her, leaning back against her with her hand clenched tightly in his hand. He was dressed in a very nice gray suit with a teal shirt, the matching tie crammed into his blazer pocket. He was looking around in wide-eyed amazement. Buffy was talking to a woman from the museum, a glass of chardonnay in her hand. And she looked absolutely breathtaking in the strapless gunmetal gray satin dress she wore. Bruce wanted nothing more than to run his fingers over the soft skin of her shoulders and kiss the space right behind her ear. All he could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by the beauty of her and his love for her. This past week had been torture and seeing her after what had seemed like an eternity was maddening and arousing.  
Richard looked up and spotted him. “Bruce!” He cried running across the floor, and practically tackling Bruce, making take a step back to regain his footing or be knocked over. Glad for the distraction, and really just glad to see the boy, he patted the boy on the head. “I’ve missed you!”  
Bruce smiled, setting his glass on a nearby table, so he could pick the boy up in his arms. “Yeah? Well, I have missed you too.” The words were very true. He had never really pictured himself a father before. He had had no reason to, but he had to admit that it would be nice to be one.  
“When are you coming home?” Richard asked, and the pout on his face, a sign of his sadness, was heart wrenching.  
“Soon, Richard, soon. I promise.”  
The boy then put his arms around his neck and hugged him, much like he had that night that Bruce had brought him back to the manor after the tragedy at the circus. For a moment, Bruce was so overcome with emotion, that all he could do was hold the boy back, and fight to keep from crying. He looked up over the Richard’s shoulder as Buffy approached.  
“Hi,” she mouthed silently.  
“Hi,” he mouthed back, his mouth turning up into a small smile. She returned it. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, also not out loud.  
He saw her jaw tremble, her eyes become moist. With arm still holding the boy, he reached out the other and drew her closer to him. He knew there was a room full of people here, more than likely watching them, but he didn’t care. He motioned with a tilt of his head to the kitchen and she nodded. Richard raised his head up to look around as all three went into the other room.  
“Are you alright?” He asked her, out loud this time.  
She nodded, smiling at him, though he could see the sadness in it. She glanced at Richard and the boy nodded.  
“You can put me down now,” he said, and Bruce set him on his feet. And then the boy did something that Bruce did not expect. “I don’t blame you for what happened to my family. And I could never hate you.” And with that, he went back through the door and out to the party.  
Bruce turned a confused look onto Buffy. She just shrugged. “He just knew. He knew you are Batman just like he knows I am the Slayer. No one told him.” She shrugged again. “He says it is Gypsy magic. I believe him.”  
Bruce nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He wanted nothing more than to pull her body against his, and it was almost too much for him to resist. “Are you sure you are alright?” Letting the conversation drop for now about Richard. He would talk to the boy later about it when there was more time. “Alfred said you were ill…”  
“Oh! I just had a little…um…too…much…to…drink?” She wasn’t a very good liar. “Yeah! That’s right. I was drinking just before we came here because I needed the liquid courage and just felt like guzzling something with high alcohol content…” She could see he didn’t believe a word she was saying. “Slayers sometimes get flu-like symptoms during times of high stress. It is a proven fact. Ask Giles.” Okay, that was the truth, but not the truth.  
He knew there was still something that was being left out, and it angered him that she would not tell him. “Why do you feel the need to keep secrets from me? He said, a little more forcefully than he had intended.  
“Just let it go,” she warned, her features set hard, but her eyes pleading with him to do as she asked. “Please, Bruce. I can’t…”  
He nodded, taking a step away from her. “Fine. If you feel that is what you must do, then by all means, do it.”  
“Do what?” She asked, her anger flaring.  
“Lie to me. Keep secrets. Why should I expect you to be totally honest to me when that is all that I have done with you?”  
“That is not true!” She snapped.  
“No? I think I have been. I told you everything about me, about my past, even things that Alfred doesn’t know, and the man is like a father to me. But you, you pass my secrets around like they are currency, and then you keep yours hidden away.”  
He could see the anger flare in her eyes and her fist clench at her side. He wasn’t a fool: he knew the damage she could do, but he was not about to back down.  
“Pass them around… How dare you? I had to tell Willow and the others so they could help us. If you were uncomfortable with that, then you should have said something I gave you every opportunity.”  
He shook his head again. Another step toward the door. “This wasn’t a good idea?”  
“What? Me coming here?”  
“Yes,” he said. His heart melted a little when he saw her eyes widen, the tears that were forming there. So engrossed was he that he missed what was coming.  
He had been punched, kicked, shot, stabbed, and just about everything else a person could suffer when fighting evil. But he had never in his life been slapped like he was at that moment. It more than stung and it sent him staggering up against the countertop. He tasted blood in his mouth and his eyes were unfocused. It felt like she had spun his head around on his shoulders.  
“Fine! Then I will leave! And when you decide to take a few minutes and make up your damn mind what you want from me, then let me know. I am tired of this dancing around with you. You tell me that you love me and then you treat me like this.” She stomped to the door, but just before she opened it, she turned and looked back at him. “And you better be damn glad I held back, Mr. Wayne!” And then she was gone, slamming the door so hard behind her, he was surprised it didn’t fly off the hinges.  
Bruce slid to the floor, unable to touch his cheek because it hurt too much to do so. The pain, however, was nothing compared to the stinging sensation where his heart had once been. Swallowing blood, pretty sure he had a tooth or two loose, he leaned his head back against the counter behind him, and finally allowed the tears to escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
